The following is from David Bryne (Blog), sent to me by Keith Johnson. Thank you!

I DON’T CARE ABOUT CONTEMPORARY ART ANYMORE?

by David Byrne
October 7, 2014

Some might have thought that the end of painting as an artform arrived with Malevich’s reductionist abstractions about 100 years ago. How could anyone do less than paint a square or circle? (He didn’t reckon with future artists who would merely describe a proposal for a painting in words.) Well, those abstractions didn’t kill it off, as even he went back to painting eventually. There is a wonderful show at the Tate Modern <http://tinyurl.com/qd9ohpo> here in London of his work—more on that in another post. But now I’m wondering if economics might kill painting off this time, along with a number of other kinds of work that we sometimes think of as part of our culture.
I live near the galleries in Chelsea, on the west side of Manhattan. When I moved there not too long ago, the galleries were already in place—having edged out a lot of auto body repair shops and the like. Now it is quickly being transformed into a zone of luxury condos. I live in a nice condo, truth be told, but it’s not as new or fancy as many of the others that are going up—but it’s pretty nice. I could, unfortunately, be considered part of that “condoization” trend.
I used to take my lunch breaks browsing the galleries—I could see a few shows relatively quickly, as the galleries are so concentrated—but now I realize I have abandoned this pleasant habit. I’ve checked out a few shows recently, most memorably one by a late Parisian street sweeper Marcel Storr <http://tinyurl.com/lo5a2o4> at Andrew Edlin Gallery <http://tinyurl.com/kkfs5dl> .
An untitled work known as one of “The Megalopolises,” by Marcel Storr. <http://tinyurl.com/kva6rk8>
I’d seen his fantastic art at the Hayward previously, a show organized by The Museum of Everything <http://tinyurl.com/mc4re74> . Here’s a review from The Guardian. <http://tinyurl.com/mc4re74>
Storr believed Paris was in danger of being destroyed by a nuclear attack, and his drawings were, in essence, plans for the eventual rebuilding of the city. Rebuilding, with some adjustments.
Anyway. What struck me recently is how I haven’t gone on my little perambulations in quite a while. It’s not for lack of time: I can peruse a group of galleries when I return from jogging even, viewing a few galleries as I cool down. It’s my lack of curiosity about what’s happening that has put the brakes on. I ask myself, “Why is this—what’s going on?” and I think the answer is economic—at least the roots of my current lack of interest are economic. (This lack of interest is relative: I did just check out the Kiefer show at the Royal Academy here in London.)
It is not news that the art world caters to the 1%. It’s obvious that the outrageous prices for contemporary art mean that—although anyone can look—only the very wealthy can afford it. That is not news. The ongoing gutting of the middle class has affected my view as well. It means that absolutely no one except the very rich are now being addressed in these shops: anyone else who once upon a time might have felt this work was within reach is quickly vanishing from the economic spectrum. That demographic of potential buyers and visitors simply doesn’t—or almost doesn’t—exist anymore. Visitors and spectators who aren’t super rich are merely window-shopping.
The window shopping aspect is actually a nice thing about galleries. They provide a place, a venue, for visual comments on our world—and anyone can visit them for free. They’re like free museums, and some of them put on museum-scale shows now too. If one accepts the idea that art can be illuminating and edifying—an old idea I don’t really believe anymore—then the galleries are providing a social and civic service. But if not, then it’s really Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
I can’t really complain that the galleries cater to the wealthy—why should they not? That’s always been how they survived. The rest of us are allowed a voyeuristic view of the merchandise and the attendant swirl of activity in the palace. The glittering art fairs and parties and benefits—I’ve been to a few—all of which might be harmless and pleasantly entertaining. No harm done, if the work still has some depth and soul.
That’s the part that worries me—the economics now affect how I see the art. I realize that I have begun to view the work itself as being either intentionally or unconsciously produced expressly to cater to the 1%. I go into a gallery now and—rightly or wrongly—immediately think, “inoffensive tchotchkes for billionaires and the museums they fund.” I can’t see the work or any ideas behind most of it anymore—if there even are any. The ideas might be there. The artists might be holding on to their integrity and be maintaining their distance from the dirty business of buying and selling, but I can no longer see it. The money and our distance from it is so much in the forefront now. I have to admit, abstract art suffers the most in this view, as it is so easy for it to be viewed as giant decorative objects—objects that carry high status and bear brand names as well. I know: some of these artists were making the work before all this happened; some struggled for years in relative obscurity, but all of that gets swept away in the tsunami of cash.
It’s sad—I used to be able to convince myself that contemporary art was some kind of forum for ideas and feelings about the world we live in. But hang on! It is! Those ideas and feelings are now about money and sucking up to those that have it and will part with a little bit of it. That is the world we live in! The work is indeed a commentary on our world, but the work is part of that swirl of luxury as well. The intention of the artist might be ironic, but when their creations mimic the things and the world being criticized so perfectly, then the irony gets lost. A skull made of diamonds might be a comment on the over-the-top luxury mode of the art world, but it is more definitely of that world as well. The irony is sort of lost, if it was ever there. Now abstract art can safely be said to be about nothing but how big it is, where it can be placed and how much it costs.
This is not necessarily a criticism of the artists—it’s about how my perception has changed.
Like many others, I used to feel I could vicariously participate even if I was often viewed as an outsider. The artists were always welcoming and eager to hang and talk about things with me. They didn’t care that I spend most of my time in another world. I was treated more or less as an equal. The work, too, I viewed as often invigorating and inspiring. In my possibly naïve state, I could see a collision of ideas, passion, beauty and pure craziness. Now it’s impossible to see things beyond the hazy, distorting screen of the market.
The market and the disparity of wealth taints everything. The art world has increasingly become like one of those party magazines: you flip though the pages and see other people frolicking and living the glamorous life. In this case, we see the oligarchs and Wall Street dudes buying and selling art, going to art fairs and all the rest—the artists tagging along. I can’t see how this can be sustainable—how the work can maintain it’s value if the rest are losing interest as I am—but then, as long as the perceived value persists (there is no real value in artwork) and if these works maintain their status, there’s no reason for the bubble to burst. Like jewelry, artwork might be able to maintain its value (or even increase its value depending on rarity) and it can be displayed with pride every so often. One hopes it isn’t like tulips—one of the more famous historical speculation bubbles that left many empty handed <http://tinyurl.com/lx9xkus> .
Could painting—the sine qua non of arty baubles—become irrelevant and uncool not because of some reductionist spiritual aesthetic (as with Malevich’s work), but because it as a medium eventually looses all depth and human relevance due to economically inspired alienation? I’m wondering to myself how the tulip bubble might have affected how people viewed an innocent flower.

davidbyrne

Puts a different spin on things in the art world, doesn't it?

Most of you know of the blog written by Elin Spring. Hers is quickly becoming one of the most important blogs to follow as she seems to get to see everything, interview everyone and have her finger on the pulse of contemporary photography in our area.  In fact her efforts to show us what is up are so impressive she is being recognized in a week or so at the annual Focus Awards at the Griffin Museum of Photography with an award.

Her blog is called: "What Will You Remember?" and you can find it here. Elin asked me if I could review a show for her a month ago and I was happy to do so as I was going to see Brian Kaplan's exhibition titled "Not Your Vacation"at the Danforth Museum anyway. In fact, I was honored to be asked. It is here. In turn I asked if she would write for this blog. She agreed and went right to a topic that caused caused quite a stir when I wrote about it: Portfolio Reviews. 

The following post, written by Elin, tackles the issue of portfolio reviews and poses a possible answer. Interesting stuff:

A New Kind of Review?

Ahhh, portfolio reviews! Those highly variable, high stakes markets in which photographers offer their wares, hoping to win gallery, museum and media attention. In the current system, this is the way photographers and art outlets find one another and, in many respects, it works. But sometimes not. What if you’re newly out of school or have just switched into a career in photography or just don’t have a complete, organized body of work to bring to a review, but you still crave feedback and direction?

When Neal Rantoul stated, “Photo teachers are massively underutilized as portfolio reviewers” in his summertime blog post (here), he put his finger on a rather gaping hole in the current review system and started an avalanche of discourse on Facebook. I’d like to take it up again because there appears to be a constructive solution. What if photographers were offered access to educators with the training and qualifications to help them prepare complete, professional projects before hitting the marketplace? What if there was a different kind of interactive evaluation, one I’ll call the “Creative Review”?

Paula Tognarelli, Executive Director and Curator of the Griffin Museum of Photography in Massachusetts, embraces the idea of extending the Griffin’s educational role and is in a perfect position to help develop another useful and effective system of portfolio reviews. I recently talked with Paula and Neal, in an effort to see where efforts might be joined to provide a new option to photographers that would better serve their careers. We came up with some ideas and invite your feedback. 

1. In addition to the traditional New England Portfolio Review (NEPR) event held each spring, a separate “Creative Review” event could be held in the fall.

2. Similar to last year’s NEPR, educational programming could take place in a morning session and individual “creative review” sessions could be conducted in the afternoon.

3. Professional photography educators would be recruited to evaluate reviewees’ works-in-progress and help guide their creative development.

4. Possibly, 2-3 reviewers could meet with each photographer simultaneously for a longer period of time (e.g. 30-40 minutes), rather than sequential, individual 20 minute reviews.

5. Perhaps other professionals, such as printers and writers, could be present to advise on printing techniques and artist statements.

Now it’s your turn! If you think you would utilize a “Creative Review” please speak up.

We’d like to know:

1. Would you like a separate event for Creative Reviews”?

2. Would you prefer single, short reviews or multiple reviewers in a longer session?

3. Would you like the advice of other professionals in your Creative Review?

We anticipate that the cost to photographers for “Creative Reviews” would not differ from current Portfolio Reviews.  If there is support for this idea in the photographic community, we will pursue it! 

Facebook would seem to be the place to air your views.

Thank you to Elin, and to Paula at the Griffin, for being willing to get the ball rolling. 

And now for something a little different....

Most of us believe in something. Most, when pressed, think  there is something that happens after we die. Most of us have developed some sort of personal belief system. This might hook up or coincide with some organized religion and it might not. 

Now I don't want to stomp on anyone's beliefs about the hereafter, the existence of a God or life ever after. But I did want to share with you something  a little more down to earth. 

A few weeks ago I'm working away on some project on my computer at home and I hear a knock knock knock on my front door. I open the door and two thin and frail  senior ladies say hello and tell me that they are from Jehovah's Witnesses and would I care to support their efforts. I say no, not today. Then they say thank you and hand me a brochure.

This is what they left with me:

It was powerful imagery in a shade of pink.  Here's the back side of the page:

Now I'm no fan of the Bible but it says right here in print that God can restore life to someone who has died. As I said, powerful stuff. The implication seems to be that, if you live your life the right way you too could come back. Up there on the page, the drawing  of the woman, she is reading the Bible and seems to be really liking it. The image looks like she is comforted by its words.

Wait a minute? You came for a photo blog and you're reading about Jehovah's Witnesses and something about a brochure they hand out? I know. I guess I can't resist critiquing the imagery, this coming from a career critiquing student work.

One tier bellow the woman with the Bible is presumably a family and the adults  seem to be congratulating or welcoming their daughter, perhaps into the church(?). 

It's not clear though, at least to me, as the man looks like he could be a preacher of some sort. The next one down is the one that gets me. The image below appears to be a group dancing or maybe they are rejoicing. Is this an image of someone coming into the house of God? Being welcomed in? I think so. Maybe they've seen the light or have converted to what, Christianity?

The web designer of my web site, John Kramer, will look at this brochure and cringe. These look like 1950's era graphics to me. Pink and light yellow colors. I wonder if this is a modern interpretation or just a design that's been used for years and reprinted as needed. 

It is fascinating though. Okay. I'll get back to photography in the next post, I promise.

In an an effort to outline a career in photography in my last post (here) I neglected many things, most notably my first teaching position at New England School of Photogtraphy in Boston from 1975-1980. I was hired by Fred Sway who was the director at the time. Fred and I have remained good friends since those days and have done photo trips together and shown together too, most notably at City Hall in Bermuda in the early 80's and last year back at NESOP in the Three Amigos show.

While I was not fishing in For the Record I got this response from Dana  McLaughlin, who was a student of mine at Northeastern:

In the limited time during a few photography classes, you also provided a rare and delicate balance of inspiration and constructive criticism that will last a lifetime for this student. I always will remember the healthy pursuit of perfection while working on prints in the lab. I've enjoyed applying this creative and thoughtful effort to so many other areas in my personal and professional life. So, thank you!

It is a constant surprise to me the effect I had on young students' lives. I remember Dana back then. I believe she was a business major. Dana was small and very sharp, inquisitive, eager to learn and to push at boundaries and challenge norms. Northeastern was filled with students really loving the experience of learning photography and she typified the non art major taking a couple of courses as electives. Much of my job in those days was really difficult: boring, stressful, political, long hours with little reward, endless meetings with no apparent effect,  an adversarial relationship with the upper administration. But walking into a classroom with 25 students who were there because they wanted to learn photography made my job eminently rewarding and fun too. 

So, thank you Dana, but also thank you to so very many students over many years.

This is what I did: I taught photography at Northeastern University. When hired to start and head the Photography Program at Northeastern University in 1981 there were only 2 courses taught by part time faculty. I developed a curriculum, added color photography to a black and white course structure, designed and built (with help) a color darkroom, hired faculty, hired lab managers, fought for and obtained increases in budget allocations,  planned for and succeeded in obtaining capital equipment, mentored faculty, advised students, brought the Program into digital beginning in 1992, designed all new darkrooms in 1987 when we moved into a renovated building, lobbied for increased  awareness of the Program and photography, advocated for better working conditions and salaries, served on tenure committees, held countless office hours, served on search committees, often at SPE or CAA conferences, served on appeal committees, granting committees, curriculum committees, executive committees, acted as chair of the Department, advocated for better student work environments, headed field trips, oversaw a large budget, etc.

I was the first assistant professor in photography, the first associate and tenured professor in photography and the first full professor in photography at Northeastern.

I also did this: taught two days a week at Harvard University in the Department of Visual and Envionmental Studies from 1978-1990 where I taught intro photo classes, lectured, advised students, obtained 7 excellence in teaching awards, led field trips, etc.

I also did this: got married in 1981, had a baby in 1982, bought a house and oversaw its renovation, helped my wife with her MFA thesis work in photography at MIT, got divorced in 1986, became a half time dad, moved, moved again and moved a third time. 

I also did this: taught at various workshops: Maine Photographic Workshop, Summersite on Lake Como, Italy, Chilmark Photography Workshop, Appalacahian Arts Center, Georgia.

I also did this: made pictures. Constantly. Spent countless hours in various darkrooms, several of which I built, countless hours in front of various computer screens, countless hours behind various cameras, often with my head under a dark cloth. Showed my work: my first show was in 1969. I always made my own prints and usually framed them myself. I still do.

I also did this: obtained residencies at the Hambidge Center in Rabun Gap, Georgia (three times), Lightwork in Syracuse (2001), Lake Como, Italy, the Baer Art Center in Hofsos, Iceland (2013).

I also did this: taught in Europe. For three summers I taught in Duino, Italy, and for another three in Viterbo, Italy in the 90's. Starting in 2007 I headed a summer semester  in Venice, Italy for three years, teaching photography for Northeastern. My colleague and friend Andrea Greitzer still heads the same trip.

Finally, as part of the Neal Rantoul "give back" campaign I served on the board of the Photographic Resource Center for six years and the Griffin Museum of Photography for several. I remain on the board of corporators at the Griffin. For two years I made pictures pro bono for the Vineyard Open Land Foundation on Martha's Vineyard. I also did pro bono work for the Canterbury Shaker Villeage in NH and donated a portfolio of prints to their collection. I made pictures of PWA's and active AIDS patients in 1987 and 1988 using 8 x 10 Polaroid materials. The work was used by Polaroid to promote increased AIDS awareness.

Those are some of the things I did.