Spiderman was always a hero of mine.

To see him portrayed so disrespectfully, by people of a different culture, is almost too much indignity to bear…

How dare they!?!

I hacked and wrestled the old furnaces out of the studio the other day, and decided I deserved a day off.

Mastur Browsing the internet today, I noticed this new “Ambigram Challenge“… I didn’t win their last one, but this one is mine, I tell ya!

The theme is “Art and Artists”, so I came up with these two three.

Anyone else up to the challenge?

“The ambigram has to be the name of an artist (Dali, Bosch, Beardsley, etc), the name of an art period (Dada, Surrealism, Renaissance, etc.), or the name of a specific artists’ masterpiece (Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, The Thinker, etc.)…

For this challenge, your ambigram will also be judged on how closely it reflects the style of the artist/art period. Of course, if your ambigram is ‘SalvadorDali’, it would still need to be as ‘surrealist’ as possible while still remaining legible and reflecting Dali’s style.”

Starting Friday September 10, 2010, at 7:00 pm, Common Sense presents Fact and Fancy – An exhibition of narrative paintings by Jessica Plattner.

Jessica Plattner is an Oregon artist and educator whose narrative paintings reflect her love of art history and her interest in all kinds of stories: literary, cultural, and personal. Her work has been exhibited in solo, group, and juried shows in the United States, Mexico, Canada, and Italy.

Her paintings are in the permanent collections of the Southwestern Oregon Community College and the Grande Ronde Hospital Regional Medical Center, and were recently featured in the High Desert Journal.

Plattner has been the recipient of numerous awards, including a Fulbright Scholarship to Mexico, a Vermont Studio Center Artist’s Grant, a Skowhegan Fellowship at Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, a University Fellowship at Tyler School of Art, and several Faculty Scholar awards from Eastern Oregon University.

She was one of ten national finalists for the 2008 Miami University Young Painters Competition for the William and Dorothy Yeck Award.

Jessica is currently Associate Professor of Art at Eastern Oregon University and a board member of the Union County Art and Culture Center.

I had not intended on blogging further on this subject, but the events of this morning compel me.

As you know, I had dropped off my own wry submission, unbidden, to the “National Portrait Gallery” show at Latitude 53 under cover of a rainy Saturday morning, where it was soon discovered, and later included in the show. When I learned the news, I went to the opening to see for myself. Both the framed picture and the forged letter hung on the wall, and although the letter was signed “Harper” and the picture was signed “Mutt”, the gallery hung only the word “Anonymous” along side. Since my gambit had succeeded, I though it was fair time to reveal the name of the piece, and the artist, so I sent that information to the official National Portrait Gallery email address, and posted the same on the blog here [dutifully copying Lat53's own label format conventions].

Then, a few days later (June 15, 2010 3:12:59 AM MDT, to be exact), I received an email, and then another, from the person most usually billed as the “curator” of the exhibition, Fish Gr-something or other.

I hear you’re claiming the anonymously-dropped and thus-hung Harper.

This, we can discuss.

o<

Of course, I naturally suspected that I could never hope to have a work of mine selected for a Latitude 53 show under my own name, which is why the work had to be submitted anonymously. But this was the first hint I had of how open they were about such bias: this was the beginning of the hastily-built case for why it can only be hung if it is anonymous, that it somehow doesn’t ‘work’ anymore if a name (any name, mind you, of course, not just mine, don’t you know…) were attached to it. It would be a travesty, I tell you, for the artist to get credit for this work, lest they take away from the magic of anonymity, or the possibility it was, um, really sent by Harper… No, no, they couldn’t possibly be so shameless as that, I thought.

780-xxx-2287 (edited for privacy)

Noon?

o<

The last being the body of an email with the subject line, “You need to call me“. I myself felt no such “need” at all, and he didn’t bother to explain why I might. Perhaps sensing this himself, he added more messages minutes later:

Subject: Particularly

Your motivations regarding the project.

Receiving these messages at a little after 8 am, I responded to this last clear request.

“Shits and giggles, Fish.
What else do you need to know?”

His reply was terse.

Your phone number.

Ooh. A little too terse for that early in the morning, I thought. I replied,

Well, it’s early still, and I have a newborn, so I’m not giving you my home number. Is that alright with you?
Again, what would you like to know?
I’m happy to talk via email…

Indeed, our replies were speeding back and forth within minutes of each other, all while allowing me to attend to other things. It seemed like this would be a great way for a writer such as Fish and myself to communicate. Fish, it seemed, felt otherwise.

I’d rather talk on the phone, if that’s all okay with you.

Again, I was puzzled by his reply, which seemed to be entirely ignoring what I had said previously, and for no clearly stated reason, with the only clearly unstated reason being that he did not want any record of his words as he would like to speak them, so would have to work at being more careful in writing. But, it was he that seemed to want something, so it was not up to him. My reply:

No, thanks.

Fish did not take this defeat happily.

Well, just to be clear: communications regarding the project go through me and, again, I’m at 780-xxx-2287.

It seemed to me he got that information across just fine in the email, and he offered nothing else, so with that, I would have been happy to let it rest with this reply.

Great, Fish. Thanks.
I sent the label info to your info@npgallery.ca address. I trust I can use that line of communication in the future as well.
Cheers,
Ryan

This seemed like a rather uncontroversial closing, as that does seem to be the only email address listed on the NPG’s own website. Surely accommodating my preference for communication via email isn’t some sort of deal-breaker, I thought. Evidently, it aroused exclamation from Fish, judging by the punctuation of his quick reply.

The phone number I sent you is the line of communication I’d kindly ask you to use. 780-xxx-2287. Thank you!

He was insistent that I call him at his number if I wanted to talk to him, seemingly forgetting all the while that I DIDN’T want to talk to him, he wanted to talk to me, which I told him would be fine, if he would kindly do so via email. Alas, this was beginning to become an Abbot and Costello routine, and it’s no fun being the straight man. Rather than point out his blunder, I replied:

As you wish, Fish.
p.s. come on down to Common Sense this Sat. afternoon. We’re opening a landscape show, with a nice variety of work, so I’m sure you’ll see something that appeals to you, being a landscape artist yourself.
Perhaps I’ll see you then,
Ryan

I noticed his photos from the show, and sincerely thought, as someone with artistic ambitions, he might genuinely like to see the show. He replied,

Heard about it, sounds cool. I know SEE is doing a preview of the show – when is it up until? I’m out of town thsi weekend …

I don’t think he ever did make it to see the exhibit while it was up, but he may have been busy indeed, I’m sure, with his diverse dabblings. Suddenly, it seemed Fish had a change of heart, and sent this lengthy reply of a different sort altogether:

Subject: In the meantime

Let me just say that we really appreciated the piece, particularly in the context of it being left at the door anonymously, a porch baby to nurture. What I mainly want to discuss with you in a more face-to-face manner is how affixing a name – any artist’s name – to this specific work weakens its power considerably. What was really engaging, as one example, was hearing questions about whether the document was legitimately from the PMO. Or considering its ambiguous political intention. Put a “mine” on that and it’s demystified. The show is weakened at a random juncture after the fact, which is a concern.

Now as an artist, I understand how one would normally want to get credit for work, and ways to ensure this are by putting one’s name on the back and coming and checking on the hanging and label before the show opens, as examples. Or having any prior contact whatsoever would also do in a pinch.

But there is a specific context in which it was left on the gallery’s door, which is to say anonymously. With an incumbent story. A good one, too.

This is fundamental, mandatory, to the piece’s central strength, the intimation the prime minister himself could have arranged for its unseen disposal. This is more important than the artwork itself – that which the art creates, including the myth. To come at it after the fact and claim ownership is, I hope you don’t mind me saying, a great disservice to the original spirit of the work that got it up on the wall in the first place. A spiritual hijacking. I’d have to ask, honestly, how does the art community – as if correcting a gallery mistake – benefit by having the portrait suddenly owned by an individual? It seriously cheapens the effect.

I’d really rather discuss this subject with you on the phone, especially to assure you that having said what I said about ownership claims, we don’t mind anyone claiming to have done it, or promote it, or throw it on their CV, etc., as a clever bit of gonzo subterfuge. Tactically, I believe this would be more endearingly and succesfully done after the show’s run, but this is my opinion.

But within the context of the gallery, I’d much prefer it stay as it sits – an exciting and comical mystery to fresh eyes.

I also understand you blog – if you were going to quote this, I would ask you do so in this email’s entirety. Thanks, Ryan.

o<

My reply:

Hey Fish,
thanks for taking the time to let me know your thoughts, for the record. I too have thought quite a bit about the piece, as you might imagine. The anonymous drop-off was, and remains, a time-based event for a particular audience, intentionally limited to those involved with the organization of the show. The fact is, it was indeed found anonymously-submitted, and it was enjoyed by you, and others no doubt, for that reason. That’s great It lead to the questions you raise about its origins. That was the idea. You decided to include it in the show. That was totally unexpected (normally, things left on doorsteps don’t make it into exhibits at most galleries!), but great, too. I’ve never been in a show at L53 before!

Now that you know where it came from, it changes that original context, but that too is the intention of my piece. Now, that original audience of the anonymous submission have a NEW series of questions raised. This was part of my intention for the piece.

Knowing the fact that I am the artist of the piece does not fundamentally change the supposed “mystery” of whether it came from the PMO (obviously, we all knew it didn’t, but that is the fiction inherent in the letter from “Stephen”, which remains signed by him).

Of course Harper didn’t paint it himself (of course, nobody “painted” it, because it’s obviously a photographic print of a photoshopped Ingres), but, if he WAS behind it all, of course he would have hired a Canadian artist to do the commission.. so, why not me? I’m a Canadian artist! It would seem, in hindsight, that I’d be the natural choice, considering I’m the one who actually did make it, after all.

You’ll notice, in the bottom left corner of the image, the piece is signed “Mutt R.” This, as you no doubt are aware, is an homage to Marcel Duchamp, himself an art-prankster of sorts. He submitted works under the name “R. Mutt”, but, I believe the labels still usually bear Duchamp’s name, not the fictional pseudonym.

In short, I disagree with you that having it labelled “anonymous” is “fundamental to the central strength” of the work itself, otherwise, the work itself would be irrelevant, and literally anything dropped off anonymously would be acceptable for inclusion in your show, which I doubt is the case. The anonymous drop-off had its effect, but that moment has passed. I’m sure you can see that most of the merit of the piece itself lies in the image and the letter, which are both obviously fictions… so, what you’re suggesting is, works of fiction are destroyed if people know they are not really true. As I say, I disagree strongly.

I have no doubt this much is true; that, if the work arrived bearing my name, it would not be included in the show. Perhaps that might give you some indication of the main, central, fundamental reason my name was not included originally.

But, it is your show, of course. Perhaps you’d prefer the label to say “Mutt R.”, since that is in fact how the piece is signed on its front. Perhaps you’d like to add the title that I’ve given the work, which enhances the piece somewhat, in my opinion. But, who am I to say, hey?
Perhaps you’ll leave it as it is.

Sights To See at Common Sense runs until July 19.
Ryan

Fish responds;

Absolutely appreciate pranks, and, yes, we did catch Duchamp. Obviously I’m not saying works of fiction are destroyed by revelations. But they can certainly be lessened. Let me be clear. I’m not alone in prefering the work as originally submitted.

Wish I had more time to get into this today – know this, though. A number of casual spectators were concinced letter was real.

Something else you can consider is I almost immediately guessed who was behind this and we ran it nonetheless.

Under the name, you know, Anonymous.

o<

I replied:

Ha!
The idea that it might have REALLY come from the PMO is more hilarious than I could have hoped…. I figured most folks would have the sort of suspicions you claim, and bust me right away.
And yes, I’m sure many people besides yourself would prefer it if I never claimed responsibility. Folks I know think it’s a pretty funny gag, either way.
Of course, I don’t mean to spoil all the fun we’ve shared. That’s why I figured I’d wait until after the opening (I attended, and signed the guestbook “Anonymous”) to send you the full label info, and let you all in on the joke. Then, I made my rather low-key announcement on my blog (gotta serve my readers!) on the weekend. I’m not planning any other blogging on the subject, despite this interesting dialogue.

Do what ever you want, Fish. I did not expect the piece to end up in the show (hanging in Todd’s office, maybe…), but now that it is, I thought you’d all be big enough to accept the prank as pulled, and (grudgingly) give credit where it’s due.

Perhaps you’ll have to answer this question (more questions raised! What an issue-exploring jackpot!) for yourselves: what’s more important, the artist’s intentions, or the curators’?

Peace,
Ryan

Fish did not respond to this last message, but added:

A number of casual spectators were concinced letter was real.

Pardon the spelling error – “convinced,” of course …

Anyway, gotta run! Talk soon, I expect.

o<

Defying those expectations, we did not talk soon. I haven’t heard from Fish again. The show went on, the curator and the gallery refused to put up the correct title information of the work, or any of the other usual information the other works had with them, never mind any credit naming the true author of the work. Against my expressed wishes, it remained on display anonymously. I visited the show a few more times during its run, and even ran into Todd there, but he didn’t mention wanting to talk to me about anything, and neither he nor anyone else from Latitude 53 ever contacted me about the show again. The exhibit’s run came to an end, but that weekend I went to Vancouver for a little over a week. Upon returning, I had half-expected to have a message of some sort from the gallery or the curator telling me to pick up my work, or asking to include it in a future run of the show somewhere else, but there was no message. So, this morning I drove down to the gallery to pick up the work. As I entered, I saw the gallery was in the disarray indicative of being between shows. The receptionist was on the phone, on a personal call, it seemed, and was in no hurry to get off. I didn’t enter the spaces, as I thought that might be rude, since the gallery didn’t appear open for viewing as such.

Eventually, the young woman got off the phone, and I told her I was here to pick up my work, which was in the portrait show. “Which work”, she asked. “The supposedly ‘Anonymous’ one”, I said.

“Oh, you’re Ryan.” She did not seem like, let alone say, she was in any way pleased to meet me. She didn’t offer her own name. She then went on to assert that, although Todd would “probably” give me my work, she was “not prepared to do so”, as Todd wanted to speak with me about the work. Strange, but, ok, I thought. Todd can bring me my work, I suppose, and we can speak about whatever he likes. But, she then said, Todd was not in.

“Well,” I said, “I’ll take the work now, since that’s what I’m here for, and Todd can talk to me later.” That seemed simple enough to me. Clearly, they knew without a doubt, via my lengthy correspondence with the curator Fish, that I had made the work, as her immediate ejaculation of the name “Ryan” attested to, although I had never met this person. But she insisted that she would not “allow me” to have it. This, along with repeating irrelevant claims of “not being prepared” to give me my own work, alerted me to this person’s mistaken sense of her own place in the matter before her: she failed to appreciate that I neither required her “preparedness” or her consent to claim my own property. At that moment I thought I saw it from a distance, in its small golden frame, lying in the gallery a few steps away. “I suppose I don’t need you to be ‘prepared’ to give it to me, whatever that means, if it is sitting right there, I could just take it now, and Todd can call me about whatever he wants,” I offered. “That’s not it,” she replied, “That’s work for a different show”, and as I looked again, I now realized that this was a different frame, more black than the gold one bearing my work.

I asked her if she thought I should call the police to intercede. She said yes, and offered the use of her telephone. I was dumbfounded: how can this person be this stupid? “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “You’re seriously not going to give me my work, which you know is mine?” I pulled out my driver’s license. “There, see? RYAN MCCOURT. You know that’s who made it, right? That’s me.”

“I’m not getting into who made it. It was left here anonymously, and Todd will probably give it back, and I’m not prepared to hand it over to you, ” she replied.

“Then call Todd,” I said, wearily, the red mist descending…

She trudged off for a tele-council with the Todd. I waited in the reception area, amazed at the hints that perhaps the work might not be returned at all, that it was somehow up to their whim. Although my opinion of these people was already so low, it seems they still plumb further, searching greedily for the nadir of oblivious unscrupulousness.

She returned. Somehow, through the guiding words of Todd, she managed to make the unknowable mental preparations necessary for her to stop being a bloody nuisance and give me my fucking shit already.

“It’s been a real pleasure, Ryan”, she said, handing me my work. She somehow refrained from spitting in my face, but she could not hold back a cartoonishly overwrought sarcasm with each word she uttered.

“Gosh,” I said, “It’s lucky I can’t recognize sarcasm”. But, I didn’t really mean it. I meant the opposite, or something like that. She said nothing in reply. For a moment, I could do nothing but gape at this person, who went from swollen-testicled defiance to shutting the fuck up in far too great a hurry for her own liking. “Is there something else?”, she demanded snidely. Half in jest, and half in lamentation for her lack of wits, I asked, “No apology, hey?”

“I hope you have a LOVELY day”, she replied, no more sweetly, with bitterness twisting her face.

“I won’t wish you the same”, I said as I left. I meant it. “Whoever you are…”

As reported in stories spreading through the Canadian Press (noted first, it seems, in Austria), an installation created by Edmontonians Sandra Bromley and Wallis Kendal has been censored during its display at a United Nations exhibition in Vienna, after complaints against a portion of the work were made by the Chinese delegation. Some of the reportage is better than others, with a gutless editor at the Globe and Mail ridiculously putting the word “censors” in their headline in inverted commas, as if it were an unconfirmed allegation, and not the statement of fact that it is. Evidently, the G&M thought it more important to make their headline punny, noting the artists are “sticking to their guns” (… get it? GUNS! LOL… ).

The title of the work in question, “The Gun Sculpture“, is actually something of a misnomer, for a few reasons. Firstly, as this censorship episode makes plain, the artists consider their full project to consist of three elements: a large cube made from weapons, a series of photographs and text on victims of violence, and a blackboard for visitor comments. Obviously, such a diverse and diffuse presentation of content is not a ‘sculpture’, per se, but rather is an installation. Their title ignores these latter components, and focuses attention primarily on the large 3D cube of weaponry (arguably the “artwork” of the piece, as the photos, text, and guestbook don’t really merit that appellation) which includes “a variety of anti-tank and anti-personnel landmines, mortar shells, 110 mm recoilless rifles, AK47s, sawed-off shotguns of different makes, knives and other non-fire arm weapons“. So plainly, not just “guns”. Plus, the Borg-ship-like block is not as solid as it appears in photographs, since it is in reality a cell-like room, its thin walls wired and welded with weapons on the outside. A weapon hut, sure, but not really a “gun sculpture” at all. (The piece would be better as a sculpture, per se, if it were a solid cube, since as it stands, in the flesh it feels disappointingly thin, like an unconvincing facade, and works much better in photos. A solid lump of guns and ammo would have far more sculptural impact).

Perhaps this misnaming of the work explains why Antonio Costa, director general of the United Nations Office in Vienna, can perhaps be forgiven for thinking the comparatively inartistic supplementary portion of photos and text on victims of violence was not “integral” to “The Gun Sculpture”, since it is quite clearly NOT integral to what most people would think of as the ‘artwork’, which is the cell covered in weapons. But, since Kendal and Bromley’s work is not simply the 3D element, but is in fact a mixed media installation on violence that includes other components, then it is beyond obvious that removing a portion of the thing by definition damages that thing’s integrity (“the quality or state of being complete or undivided”… Dictionaries FTW!). With a more appropriately descriptive name for the installation, Mr. Costa’s claim “that nothing was done to undermine the integrity of the artwork and that the UN supported the installation” would be seen as akin to a claim that black is white, and just as contrary to established facts.

Although none of the coverage on this issue has included any quotes from the mysterious Wallis Kendal himself, Sandra Bromley says “Social issues like this, not everybody likes them, but most people respect the right to look at issues and discuss issues. I hope the artistic community is riled by this. I hope they speak out loudly about it.” (The Edmonton Journal also quotes Bromley as stating “We don’t look at this art as a political statement”, but that’s obviously utter nonsense.) This isn’t really an issue merely for the arts community, but for civil society at large, to be riled by, just as any other instance of censorious interference should rile those who cherish the freedoms set out in the UN’s own Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which includes the right to free expression. And while China has long shown their disregard for basic human rights, in far worse ways than this, a commitment to free expression is something you would think the UN’s own Vienna Director-General would understand better, and hold more dear.

Unfortunately, it seems that Antonio Costa takes a rather squint-eyed view of human rights, which leads one to wonder what he’s doing in running a UN office in the first place? Perhaps it’s time for him to retire…

New arrivals this week to the

Cassady McCourt Collection:

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I was mentioning the Mercer 2010 Quality of Living Survey in conversation the other day; specifically, the surprise that the Top 5 cities in the Americas on the list are all Canadian, and the comparative lack of surprise that Edmonton is not among them. Worse still, Edmonton doesn’t even rank at all in Mercer’s list of the top fifty cities in the world in which to live.

And yet, here we are.

I came across a page of ambigrams the other day, web browsing, and thought I’d try making some of my own. I started on paper, using the kitchen window as a lightbox, but then decided it was easier to try out ideas on the computer. After playing around over the course of a couple of days, some of the best I’ve made are seen here.

Now, I find out there’s an automatic ambigram generator. I should have guessed there was an easier way.

Did you know the EAC now awards project grants of up to $25,000 to visual artists?
Did you know the deadline for applications is July 1?
Do they know that’s a holiday?

Whatever the answers to those questions… better send off an application.

You’ve got to be in it to win it.