When Art (or In What Regard)

When Art (or In What Regard)

"When Art (or In What Regard)" is a collaborative project initated by artist Jeanette Doyle. The project is part of FLOAT curated by Sara Reisman, a biannual exhibition organized by Socrates Sculpture Park (in Long Island City, New York) in August, during which time the Park facilitates artistic projects that reflect the mediums with which sculpture overlaps: video, installation, performance, and other ephemeral and time-based practices that have a growing impact on sculptural and contemporary art practice in general.

Staged in 2003 and 2005, FLOAT has focused on site-specific social sculpture, relational and locational aesthetics, and participatory performances. For information about FLOAT, you can refer to Socrates http://socratessculpturepark.org/Special_Events/float/Float05.htm
http://socratessculpturepark.org/Archives/Special_Events/Float/Float03.htm

This year, the exhibition has a loose theme dealing with the aesthetics of nostalgia for a future past. Referencing Fredric Jameson's "Archaeologies of The Future," the show has taken cues from artists who are dealing with questions surrounding time and longing for possibilities of a future that may be linked to ideologies of the past.

When Art (or In What Regard) will also circulate as a newsprint publication with contributions from up to 15 artists, curators, critics, and others that touch on the question of "When Art (or In What Regard)" which will include images and short texts that the contributors think capture the timeliness of art. This project does not intend to revisit 'What is Art', but seeks to weave together a dialogue about the status of an artwork in relation to time and its reception.

Jeanette Doyle developed the phrase 'When Art (or In What Regard)' following conversations with Sara Reisman, Marcia E. Vetrocq and Paddy Johnson.  Her initial consideration of this topic was based on an email conversation with the artist, writer and curator Dave Beech where Doyle suggested considering 'When is Art' as a way to think freshly about the 'What is Art' problem.

So the conversation about "When Art" began with the question of an artwork's legitimacy in relation to when it is received by a viewer (hence the subtitle "In What Regard"), and what happens when a work is not seen.  Does its value as an artwork diminish?  Other areas in relation to "When" may be teased out through considering an artwork's fluctuating value within the art market and how a time-based work might only be considered an artwork after it takes place, through documentation and historicization.

Jeanette Doyle and Sara Reisman requested the participation of Soledad Arias, Nathalie Angles, Kóan Jeff Baysa, Dan Cameron, Jinkee Choi, Eva Diaz, Aniko Erdosi, Freee, Georgina Jackson, Paddy Johnson, Rebecca Gordon Nesbitt, Paul O'Neill, Sarah Pierce, Aisling Prior, Sebastian Romo, Mick Wilson, Raul Zamudio having been individually or collectively inspired by their work in the realm of artmaking and/or criticism. The initial contribution takes the form of an image or short text for this blog and also the newsprint publication which is to be distributed at Socrates Sculpture Park during the month of August 2007.

The Park is open everyday from 10am to sunset and attracts a unique combination of local Queens residents with arts enthusiasts, tourists, and artists involved in projects at the Park.

FLOAT 2007 opens on August 11.

Soledad Arias

Soledad Arias like you I forgot
billboard project 2006

                                                                                           Inserted into the public realm, like you i forgot, lingers like a whispered private thought; words are pronounced in the first person, thus provoking an identification for the audience. The phrase printed on the billboard creates in a short lapse of time, a visual delay, leaving the passersby with a thought to ponder rather than a slogan to consume. This billboard project subtly addresses the relevance of remembering as a personal and social vehicle to responsibility, healing and awareness.

Billboards are ephemeral; and they are destroyed and disappear when taken down. And it is precisely because of this disappearance that they are able to make their absence felt, alluring the passersby with anticipatory desire.

Nathalie Angles

Warren Neidich’s Interview Project
(re-enacted interview)

The original interview between Eric de Bruyn and Dan Graham was held in New York in March 1967 and was initially published in Gloria Moure, Dan Graham, exh. cat., pp. 195-205.

These video stills are from the Interview Project performed at Magnus Muller Gallery in Berlin on May 24th, 2007 as part of a performance program entitled "Redistribution of the Sensible" curated by Warren.

The actors were David Egan, who played the role of Eric de Bruyn, and Anna Finn, who played the role of Dan Graham. The images show the actors re-enacting the interviews but at the same time a video camera was recording the facial and hand gesticulations of the actors and simultaneously projecting them on to the wall behind the actors. Thus, you had the live action and the theatrical distance and at the same time, the looped cinematic feed of the close up.

The original interview

 

Another re-enacted rendition of the interview was done as a radio drama at the Moscow Biennial in 2007. This was a live performance in which actors played the roles of Dan Graham and Eric De Bruyn.

Koan Jeff Baysa

Here from There

Freee

Dan Cameron

Nobody runs the art world. No one is in charge of what gets seen where, when, or in what context. Lots of different people may be in charge of separate details here and there, and there might even be overlap, but by and large they represent completely disparate interests. The most common reason for exercising one’s option to get involved with art is that one has developed a keen interest in it, to the point of its becoming a passion.                                                                                                                                               

Art is the closest model we possess for the absolutely free mind permitted to work in real time and space, completely unfettered by authority. There are always limits, but the biggest limit of them all seems to be the human will, which balks at being able to do exactly what it wants to when it gets the urge. Perhaps that is really why we have artists: to symbolically enact all that freedom on our behalf. This responsibility does not end with the making of the work, but continues with its designation as ‘art’ – i.e., something worth looking at. It should surprise no one to learn that this authority also belongs to every single one of us.

Of course, one does occasionally hear that all the major decisions in the art world are in the hands of a small cabal of power brokers, but this hardly seems consistent with what one experiences with one’s own senses. In fact, if you look closely, art seems to be bursting out of every available seam, with little consensus on what gets presented where. It’s surprising, really, how little encouragement art requires, but perhaps that’s because more people find themselves wanting art, even in those cases where they don’t actually know what it is.

Jinkee Choi

Eva Diaz

Future Noir, Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Electric Toads

Talk of utopia is thick in art and theory these days.  Implicit but often unacknowledged in such invocations of a better society, however, is the dark possibility of ever worsening social conditions. In a remarkable recent essay on utopias, Fredric Jameson distinguished the merits of dystopian thinking as opposed to conservative tendencies of “anti-utopianism,” the latter discouraging even tentative speculations about the outlook of the future.  Dystopian fantasies, most importantly those of classic future writers H.G. Wells, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Ursula K. Le Guin, Philip K. Dick and on through current iterations penned by George Saunders and Jonathan Lethem, harbinger the course of a present inattentive to the social and ecological consequences of the exploitation of people and resources which are now clearly attributable to untrammeled globalized capitalism.

This call to accountability in dystopian literature is a plea to see in the now the portent of a dire future especially because of its uncanny continuity with the forces that have shaped today.  Dystopianism is then, like utopianism, a powerful way to think historically in the present about the possible shape and texture of the future.  At times the prescience of dystopianism is its construction of an almost banal parallel present issuing from a mild realignment of historical forces.  The precarity of the past and the ambiguities of understanding how exactly we came to the current organization of society are exploited in the best examples of sci-fi.  Dick and Saunders are particularly adept at activating simple though ingenious thought-experiment devices: what would San Francisco be like today if Japan and Germany had won the war, what if there existed a theme park of prehistoric culture in which underpaid workers replicated the tedious existence of Neanderthals… 

At the end of Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep the novel’s protagonist, the bounty-hunter Deckard, is exhausted after having “retired” several escaped robots and retreats to the post-nuclear landscape north of Los Angeles.  So blighted is the novel’s environment that little biological life survives.  Nonetheless, Deckard is thrilled to notice a living toad, which in his ennervated state salves his suicidal thoughts and brings him home again. His wife discovers, however, as she flips its underside open that the toad is just another of the novel’s mechanical animals.  Yet even counterfeit creatures demand to be nurtured as an effect of humans having squandering the plentitude of nature.  She calls an electric animal accessories store and orders the toad some artificial flies.  The hybrids Dick and others imagine question the peculiar responsibilities and effects of today’s substitutes for experience, giving a forecast of a time out of joint which is neither the past nor the future but rather the fearsome parallax of the present.

Aniko Erdosi

I recall two recent art experiences regarding the issues of art in relation to the present and to time in general. For Performa in 2005 (a performance biennial), Marina Abramovic reenacted six early performance pieces of her colleagues and one by herself from the sixties and seventies, in the Guggenheim Museum. I went to see most of them but could not really enjoy them as a performance. I could not help but see it as a historian or as an archaeologist, pondering questions like: How was the original or first performance? What did the audience experience then? What is different now when everything is different around these performances? And what does or could it mean to me, here and now? I thought these performances were unsuccessful in terms of a classical performance, which meant to be an immediate, real time communication with the audience, an energy transmission. At the same time, I considered the whole project to be a very interesting and important act by the artist. Those pieces in the Guggenheim did not have the energy and the presence that I expected, however they made me think about some questions related to the existence and visibility of art, over and over again.

 
Another case when very similar questions arose in my mind was a couple of months ago I saw the recreated installation pieces by William Anastasi mostly from the late sixties, in the project room of The Drawing Center. I knew most of the pieces from reproductions and descriptions, but when I entered the small room on Wooster Street I experienced a kind of revelation. The pieces were fresh and current somehow, even the more then thirty years old metal plate, which was watered again and again in several exhibitions during the decades. A par excellence artwork: an old, preserved and appreciated object. I was very thankful that I had a chance to see those pieces in real life. Although this was a powerful art experience, again I wondered how could it be to see them for those, who saw them ten or twenty years ago? How does someone see them who never even heard of them, and what would I think and feel if I would see them again in the future? In reference to the often seen and ignored things, I wonder if it is possible that we have only one time chance to see an artwork, or sometimes not even one? Or what Kundera says about the human experience of pain could be valid also for the human experience of art: we experience it three times, once when we imagine it, once when we experience it in real life, and once when we remember of it. Either way, from my side sometimes I have the feeling that art is happening when we do not even notice it or do not pay attention at all. And this always brings me some kind of relief and joy.

                                                                                                                         William Anastasi, Issue (detail), 1966/2007
Plaster
156 x 4 1/2 x 1/4 inches
From William Anastasi: Raw, The Drawing Center, New York,
April 21–July 21, 2007
Photo by Cathy Carver

                                                                                                                                                                

William Anastasi, Untitled, 1966/2007
One gallon of industrial, high-gloss enamel, poured
Dimensions variable
From William Anastasi: Raw, The Drawing Center, New York,
April 21–July 21, 2007
Photo by Cathy Carver

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        July, 2007

                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                          

Georgina Jackson

Paddy Johnson

Not having any money compels a person do all kinds of things they might not if making rent weren’t so connected with having a place to sleep at night. For example, when I concluded that I was one of the city’s “essential workers” two days after the towers fell and would therefore have to go into work, fiscal circumstance probably informed that decision far more than the believe that dirty display cases would issue a blow too great for the average New Yorker to survive.  As a result, while most of the city watched looping footage of the buildings fall from their homes, I spent my day cleaning fingerprints off the vetrines at the New York Public Library and somewhat unexpectedly speaking to a journalist looking for symbols of strength within the city.

I suppose it was my Windex and Kimwipe prop ensemble that gave me enough air of authority to inspire a reporter from the Orlando Sentinel to ask which work in The Public’s Treasures exhibition best represented New York hardiness.  I’m not convinced I ever gave the man a direct answer, but I showed him a series of photographs of the Statue of Liberty before it had been assembled, explaining that documentation like this feels just as surreal as the towers falling because while everyone has either had or can imagine a physical relationship with these famous structures, we don’t have any more than a superficial understanding of how they were built. In other words, the towers were built with the cumulative knowledge of thousands, so just as the expertise required to construct the building exceeds the capabilities of one person, it follows that its removal would similarly be incomprehensible to the individual.  I then went on to make the obvious point that the collective expertise required to create the structures in and of itself represented the strength of New Yorkers, and the bonds we share with foreign nations. 

Six years later, my participation in When Art (or in What Regard) leads me to consider just how far this philosophy extends.   For example, does a mass reaction to the loss or damage of a structure or artwork concretely identify the sublime (a vast magnitude beyond measurement), or are they simply misplaced characterizations of objects that have related political agendas or larger philosophical ideas attached to them? Is the sublime malleable? Will the absence and subsequent socio-political history of those fallen buildings change the functionality of their aesthetics? The idea I floated by the reporter provided no window into my own aesthetic judgments on the statue or buildings, and for good reason since it really wasn’t the time to go into why I thought the towers were more of a feat in engineering than they were an architectural marvel, what with their purposelessly aggressive and showy structure.  As I suggest above however, since that time I’ve come to see the buildings much more positively.

Frustratingly however writing this piece brings me no closer to being able to conclude whether sublimity can exist or be created within absence and memory.  Unlike the simple motivations behind traveling into the city to clean a few vetrines, locating aesthetic grace and magnitude within a field of political and social relationships is murky business. So, I still don’t know if collective memory and grief is powerful enough to change the functionality of aesthetics but I suspect it might be. It evidently is enough to garner the support of a nation for a senseless war. 

Rebecca Gordon Nesbitt

REUTERS: Wednesday evening. A five-year old girl unearthed an object in the undergrowth of a Long Island City park. The girl's mother referred to its indescribable beauty and told journalists that her daughter is still recovering from its impact. Scientists have dated the object to the early twenty-first century and describe it as a simple polymer comprised of hydrogen and carbon atoms in an unknown configuration. Reports that the surface of the shape is covered with proscribed words, such as unity and co-operation, remain unconfirmed.

 

Paul O'Neill

Sarah Pierce

Aisling Prior

                                                                            Images courtesy of Breaking Ground and the artist

Hotel Ballymun, a large scale month long sculptural performance which inhabited the top floor of a soon-to-be demolished public housing tower block in Dublin, by converting it into a beautifully sparse hotel, was artist Seamus Nolan's response to working with the community in an area undergoing a vast regeneration process. Hotel Ballymun insisted on the re-imagining of a discredited architecture, a scapegoat for governmental indifference and inefficient public services, and celebrated the achievements of those who have lived in that community despite the stigmas and difficulties inherent in so doing. The Hotel was managed and staffed by Ballymun residents, and the bespoke furniture was made by local people from articles left behind in the vacated flats. Each afternoon and night, guests were entertained by local writers, musicians and other performers. Hotel Ballymun confronted prejudice against a population of 20,000 people, almost 100% of whom are residents of social housing, by attracting the participation and attention of those who had never been to the area, only ever hearing of it on news bulletins since its creation in the 60's. It was also, unashamedly, a deeply affecting elegy for brutalist yet utopian modernist architecture, which has, by community insistence, ceded to more traditional forms of housing.
www.hotelballymun.com

Sebastian Romo

What makes a Site specific sculpture to be specific
about a site?
What happens if this sculpture is mobile?
And what happens then if a sculpture always takes the
shape of the place where it is placed?

Is it the same sculpture?
Is it site specific?
Does a sculpture needs some thing in particular to be
site specific?
Is in its shape?
In the material from which it is build?
May be in the tale behind the sculpture?
Or the memory?

How to be with out memory?
Do we change depending on the place we are?
Do we change depending on the country we are?
Do we behave differently depending on the
architectural context we are?
Are we what surround us?
Or Are we what we Are?
Then in regard of what?

May be time?
May be because we are in constant transformation,
being what we are…
In Time…
Until we die.

(for “el espacio en el espacio” Site specific mobile
sculptures) 2002.

But the what?
Sculpture may be as a Map!
But Where does a map begin?
A system of writing that start and end depending on
our direction, need, intention and approach.
But is it possible to have to directions in time?
This require us to be able to have parallel
alternatives at once; like the lovers that find each
other after walking around the bock, beating, ticking.
(at once).
But what if the object is just one?
But what if our time isn’t “more” But “less”?
But what if never gets the other way around?

But what if we could see at once the same object going
two ways at once, but in just one time?
But if the object in question is clock?
Then what?
May be is because of the light.
May be the light is the only thing to compress and
change the perception of time.
Just like a Flash forward, and a flash back in a film.
But are closer?

Sculpture has a Kind of time, that depends on the
directions, size, and possibilities of perception,
that depend mainly on its shape, and materials.
Some sculpture are minted to be “memorials” other ones
“Monuments”, some others have their own kind of time.
And their layers of reflective ability (reading)
change depend on the historical moment in which they
are read or confronted.

(for “The same object two directions in time”) 16mm
Loop 01’00”. 2001.

Do a sculpture that changes constantly, still be the
same sculpture?
(Just like a Plant).
Is it possible to make a sculpture with time?
Who many kind of time Do Photography Have?
Is a photograph a condensed system of times?

Who many ways do we have to experience Space?
Liquid?
Solid?
Gas?
Conceptual?
Distorted?
Is it possible a space with out space?
Is Sculpture matter on space?
Who many types of Time Do exist?
Is it equal to each Kind of time a equal kind of
space?

By touching.
By describing…
By thinking…

What does time have to learn from Space?


The will in nature after Schopenhausser.
2002.
Wood table, book, and plants.

Tropicalia.
2001.
Minilab C-Prints.
Ø 90 X 10 Cm.

The space that occupy my body in the space…
2001.
6 - 20X24” C-Prints.
And Plexiglas cube.
(with the volume of my body).

“El espacio en el espacio” Site specific Mobile
sculptures. 2002-?
#2 (escala).
Had 4 Transformations.
Museum Board.
Variable dimensions.

The same object in two different directions in time.
2001.
16mm Film Loop. 01’00”.
No sound.

Mick Wilson

Raul Zamudio

Pablo Picasso, 1912
Marcel Duchamp, 1917
Constantin Brancusi, 1926
Walter Benjamin, 1936
Internationale Situationiste, June 1, 1958
Lygia Clark, 1963
Seth Siegelaub, 1969
Robert Smithson, 1969
Brain O'Doherty, 1976
Teching Hsieh, 1981-1982
Andy Warhol, 1983
Morley Safer, 1993
Nicolas Bourriaud, 1998
Damian Hirst, 2001

Darius Miksys and Raimundas Malasauskas

The text No. 2

To be happy you have to:

commit your obligations / have no obligations / become famous / create several good music pieces / know well 6 languages / become suddenly informed that in Lithuanian population grew up to 40 millions / spend the time well and never work technical work / receive big inheritance in foreign country / learn piloting of aircraft / at least once to get the space / get another planet (moon, mars, extra-solar, etc.) / have a plenty of good clothing / spent all your time perfecting of yourself / make your ideas to become true / keep strict daily schedule / be sure that your computer you've bought never gets old / be sure that the last visit at a dental technician will be the last one / have an ability to go anywhere any time / have no financial problems. Never / make sure that the spring have no more influence to you than any other time / go to the sea or to the country side this Saturday / have an extensive audio and video collection / produce the idea with "wide wall" / be exposed to the risk in dangerous situation and receive no harm / be suddenly informed that Vilnius grew up to 5 millions population and there will be grandiose buildings started / meet the UFO at least once and if they were not existing - know it / live long enough to fulfil your curiosity / make that sand will not be applied in Vilnius streets in winter time / have big environmental interface menu in which would be possible to select the best one for particular situation / peep over the border of consciousness / have a good separator for selecting information / make that these wishes never come true / make that all and even contradicting wishes come true / be sure you will have never wash your clothes and they will remain clean / have always some time and material for rethinking / get the good skate rollers with leather boots / make sure that close relatives and friends will have no big problems / make your perception from at least three points of view / loose understanding of the meanings of stereotypic sentences / correct the past / do not have any wish to correct past / do not waist time / have a wish that everything would go as if it would be better for You / get the possibility that you could never touch the door hands / have a huge selection of drinks in your bar and be sure it will never reflect on your health / learn flying / see yourself from the inside and outside / find perfect subject of love / compress culture and civilisation so that any time you could extract back any situation from there / go abroad to study narrational structures / be like this: when having something, be passionate about it as if not having it at all / loose your experience gained in the last four years. / spend vacations in some interesting places / learn playing the music instrument (accordion, etc.) / be sure that this text has the end.

dm

Jacob Fabricius

Old News

2006 - 3 issue
3 months

January - March: Henrik Olesen (Denmark), Karl Holmqvist (Sweden)
April-June: Anri Sala (Albania), Lucas Ajemian (USA), T10. (Transfunctional
Territory) (Cuba)
July-September: Aleksander Komarov (Belrussia), Laura Horelli (Finland),
October-December: Lee Ranaldo (USA), Bruno Serralongue (France), Leah Singe
(USA).

+ The Silly Season/la saison des marronniers:
Ignasi Aballí (Spain), Matthieu Laurette (France), Tzay chuen Lim
(Singapore) and Tanja Ostojic (Serbia) & friends.


2005 - 2 issue
12 months
Adam Broomberg (South Africa)
Gerard Byrne (Ireland)
Mathew Hale (England)
Céline Duval (France)
Ján Mancuska (Slovakia)
David Shrigley (England)
Kawasaki/Sound Bum (Japan)
Annelie Nilsson/Cecilia Wendt  (Sweden)

3 month Los Angeles Special
Andrea Bowers, Kaucyila Brooke, The Center for Land Use Interpretation/Erik
Knutzen, Mari Eastman, Morgan Fisher, Sharon Hayes, Marc Herbst, Elliott
Hundley, Mary Kelly, Los Super Elegantes/Eric Bluhm, Laura Owens, Ed Ruscha
and Lincoln Tobier.

+ Emergency Library: Thomas Hirschhorn (CH)+


2004 - 1 issue
1 Month
February-Jakob Kolding (Denmark) / Loke Fowler (Scotland)
March-Emily Jacir (USA) / Cesare Pietroiusti (Italy)
April-Tercerunquinto (Mexico) / Erick Beltran (Mexico)
May-Tania Bruguera (Cuba) / Jessica Almy-Pagan (USA)
June-Alfredo Jaar (Chile) / Mauricio Arango (Columbia)
July-Carolina Caycedo (Columbia) / Andrea Riviere  (Columbia)
August-Julie Ault (USA) / Stephan Pascher (USA)
September-Sabah Naim (Egypt) / Mohmed Able (Egypt)
October-Sam Nhlengethwa (South Africa) / Velaphi Mzimba (South Africa)
November-Rivane Neuenschwander (brazil) / Cao Guimarães (Brazil)
December-Takuji Kogo *Candy Factory Projects (Japan) / YOUNG-HAE CHANG HEAV
INDUSTRIES (Korea)
January-Jesper Fabricius (Denmark) / Camilla Nørgaard (Denmark)




Old News has been exhibited at the following venues:
Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions (Los Angeles, 29. June-11. September
05)
Dunkers Kulturhus (Helsingborg, Sweden. April through June 2006)
cneai = le des impressionnistes (Chatou, France. 14. October 2006 - 29.
January 2007).
CGAC (Santiago, Spain. 31. October 2007 ­ 6. January 2008)
Midway Contemporary Art (MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA. 8. March - 26. April

Old News is a project about information and media, and will continue for 5
years begining (2004).

There is nothing new about Old News
"There are 4,000 holes in the road in Blackburn, Lancashire, or one
twenty-sixth of a hole per person, according to a council survey. If
Blackburn is typical, there are two million holes in Britains roads, and
300,000 in London".
This was what John Lennon read in Daily Mails Far and Near column on 17
January 1967. Lennon transformed the news into the last verse of the song A
Day In A Life, the last song on The Beatles 1967 album Sergeant Peppers
Lonely Hearts Club Band. Reading about the 4,000 potholes in Blackburn,
Lancashire, may start you thinking about the flood of information that is
constantly printed and possibly read by millions of people around the globe
You may begin to think about the amount of information that is accessible to
an individual. Read, unread, understood, misunderstood.

Old News is a project about information and media.
In Old News you will find images and articles selected by 24 individuals. I
could have been 24 farmers, dental technicians or real estate agents
choosing the articles and images, but the information in Old News was
selected by artists. Starting in January 2004, I invited one artist a month
and continued to do so for twelve months. Each invited artist was asked to
invite a fellow artist to participate and both clipped four articles or
images (possibly one every week) from news sources s/he read during the
designated month. All articles appear, as they were sent to me. Some have
been reduced in size, due to the size of the original clipping, but
otherwise they have not been edited. A few artists have culled their
articles and images from webnews sources, some have re-worked them
graphically, and that is how they are shown here.

When I first started thinking about Old News, I thought about how news,
newspapers and information influence my life. How I select my news sources
and how information can be manipulated in the media. I thought of how I
would react to my own Old News request. Would I read and look at the daily
paper differently? While you read this, you might think about what you would
do.
I was curious how artists would react to my request and make their
selections. The artists approached the Old News project in a variety of
ways. News and newspapers have been used in many different creative
processes long before Lennon discovered the 4,000 holes. Recycling news
articles, headlines, images and using information from the print media were
at the core of visual art in the 20th century. The expressions are many and
varied from intervention, incorporation, appropriation, reproduction of new
to self published newspapers and montaged newspaper fragments.

Many artists, writers and musicians have inspired me in my research. I would
like to mention Sylvan Hoffman and C. Hartley Grattan's book News of the
World, a History of the World in Newspaper-style (1953), On Kawaras I read
(1966 to the present), the news paper insert in Dead Kennedy's album Bedtime
for Democracy (1986), Tom Lehrer's That Was The Year That Was (1965), Ken
Loach's segment from the film September 11  and Guy Schraenen's exhibition
Kunstzeitung/Zeitungskunst about the history of artworks in and around
newspapers. I looked for, but regrettably never found, Aleksandr Mosolov's
Four Newspaper Advertisements (Chetyre gazetnyh obyavlenya) a 1926
composition inspired by real advertisements in the Russian newspaper
Izvestija.