Compiling research, articles, critical analysis and opinion pieces on art and (since 2022) arts education in the UK. This blog has developed from the pool of research I began compiling while at university, originally focused on net.art, relational art and digital internet cultures.
 Independent schools assosciation conference 2011
âIf you want an even more succinct rationale for the arts in schools then I recommend the work of Professor Elliot Eisner of Stanford University. Eisner argues there are ten good reasons why the arts are essential in the curriculum:Â
a. The arts teach children to make good judgments about qualitative relationships. This is unlike much of the curriculum in which correct answers and rules prevail, in the arts, it is judgment rather than rules that prevail.Â
b. The arts teach children that problems can have more than one solution and that questions can have more than one answer.Â
c. The arts celebrate multiple perspectives. One of their large lessons is that there are many ways to see and interpret the world.Â
d. The arts teach children that in complex forms of problem solving purposes are seldom fixed, but change with circumstance and opportunity. Learning in the arts requires the ability and a willingness to surrender to the unanticipated possibilities of the work as it unfolds.Â
e. The arts make vivid the fact that neither words in their literal form nor numbers exhaust what we can know. The limits of our language do not define the limits of our cognition.Â
f. The arts teach students that small differences can have large effects. The arts traffic in subtleties.Â
g. The arts teach students to think through and within a material. All art forms employ some means through which images become real.Â
h. The arts help children learn to say what cannot be said. When children are invited to disclose what a work of art helps them feel, they must reach into their poetic capacities to find the words that will do the job.Â
i. The arts enable us to have experience we can have from no other source and through such experience to discover the range and variety of what we are capable of feeling.Â
j. The arts' position in the school curriculum symbolizes to the young what adults believe is important.â
A visitor smelling a scratch-and-sniff painting at the spring 2015 MediaLab Expo. Image courtesy of the author
From Don Undeen, Senior Manager of MediaLab:
âThe MediaLab has been fortunate enough to work frequently with the Met's fantastic Access Programs and Community Programs Office in exploring ways that museums can be more welcoming to visitors of diverse abilities. One of the concepts we've been learning about is universal design, which is the idea that products and experiences should be constructed to be usable by a wide range of people regardless of disability, age, or background. A corollary to this is that when you design for accessibility you generally end up producing results that benefit everyone. After a discussion about how to make the museum experience available to blind and partially sighted visitors, Ezgi created a suite of products that can bring anyone closer to the Met's collection.â
Multisensory Museum Experience
In the majority of museums, visitors can only experience the artworks by viewing them. Most museums work to make sure that galleries have neutral smells and sounds so that the visitor can focus on the artworks, but those factors can alter the experience significantly. All of the sensesâsight, sound, touch, smell, and hearingâare a part of the museum experience.
Multisensory Met, a series of activities designed to create a more fulfilling museum experience, in the spring 2015 MediaLab Expo. Image courtesy of the author
In order to protect the artworks, visitors are strictly forbidden from having any physical contact with the art. This inspired me to create Multisensory Met, a series of activities designed to provide a museum experience that makes use of all the senses. I believe that creating a multisensory environment will truly enhance the museum experience.
Multisensory Booklet
I initially thought of making a multisensory booklet for visitors to carry around as they view the art. The booklet would feature pictures of artworks in the Met's collection that are equipped with touch-activated sounds and smells so that the visitor can view each artwork and interact with the corresponding activity in the booklet.
A video of Claude Monet's Garden at Sainte-Adresse in the Multisensory Booklet. Video courtesy of the author
Multisensory Sculptures
I think everyone has had the urge to touch, smell, or taste at least one of the Museum's objects. I was immediately fascinated by the beautiful figures in the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas galleries, and I found myself particularly interested in the Power Figure (Nkisi N'Kondi: Mangaaka). I wanted to touch and smell it mainly because of the variety of materials it includes (wood, metal, resin, and shell) and the materials that were added to the figure during rituals, like dirt from burial sites; white clay from riverbeds; and nails, blades, and other hardware.
Power Figure (Nkisi N'Kondi: Mangaaka), 19th century. Republic of the Congo or Cabinda, Angola, Chiloango River region. Kongo peoples; Yombe group. Wood, paint, metal, resin, ceramic; H. 46 1/2 in. (118 cm), W. 19 1/2 in. (49.5 cm), D. 15 1/2 in. (39.4 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Lila Acheson Wallace, Drs. Daniel and Marian Malcolm, Laura G. and James J. Ross, Jeffrey B. Soref, The Robert T. Wall Family, Dr. and Mrs. Sidney G. Clyman, and Steven Kossak Gifts, 2008 (2008.30)
I decided to create a small, touch-sensitive replica of the figure that would have its own smell and sound. I used clay and nails similar to the materials used to make the sculpture. I then put a little bit of essential oil on the top of the sculpture to simulate the original scent of the object.
Views of the clay replica of the Power Figure (Nkisi N'Kondi: Mangaaka). Images courtesy of the author
I also wired the inside of the sculpture so that it would produce a buzzer sound when touched. I used Arduino tools to create a programmable microcontroller and to play wav. files. The sound helped express and emphasize the power of the figure, which added a lot to the overall interaction and experience.
Video of a user touching the multisensory sculpture. Video courtesy of the author
The goal of creating this sculpture was to give visitors a better understanding of the original use of this figure and figures like it. Even though they can't be a part of an actual Kongo ritual, visitors can touch and smell the sacred object and imagine what it might have been like to experience it.
Material Book
I received some useful feedback on the multisensory sculpture, which was that making a replica is always risky because it never fully represents the actual work. Even if I 3D-printed every object, any small flaw or change of size would make the replica less authentic. So I tweaked the idea by removing the replication process and letting the materials speak for themselves.
Material Book is a booklet that allows users to touch a small amount of materials that are similar to those that the Senufo peoples used to create their figures and sculptures. Since visitors can't see the exact materials used to create the sculptures without taking a very close look, having the materials in front of them is a much easier way to gain an understanding of what it would feel like to touch the artworks.
The Material Book for the Oracle Figure (Kafigeledjo). Image courtesy of the author
I created a page for the Oracle Figure (Kafigeledjo) that included wood, iron, porcupine quills, feathers, and commercially woven fiber. I couldn't include bones and dirt in the page, but I replaced them with clay and homemade Play-Doh.
Oracle Figure (Kafigeledjo), 19thâmid-20th century. CĂŽte d'Ivoire, northern CĂŽte d'Ivoire. Senufo peoples. Wood, iron, bone, porcupine quills, feathers, commercially woven fiber, organic material; H. 32 7/16 x W. 13 x D. 4 1/2 in. (82.5 x 33 x 11.4 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Wielgus, 1964 (1978.412.488)
Scratch-and-Sniff Paintings
I then focused on how to make paintings a more interactive experience for the visitor, and I came up with the idea of scratch-and-sniff paintings. Inspired by scratch-and-sniff stickers, which I consider a very simple and effective way to add smell to an object, these paintings are safe for the museum environment because the smell is trapped inside the object until the user activates it.
Some of the scented powders that were used to make scratch-and-sniff paintings. Image courtesy of the author
I created these scratch-and-sniff paintings using powdered fragrances, incense, and spices. I stuck them on different parts of a photograph of a painting using a stamp pad so that different parts of the painting would give off different scents. For example, I used floral, salt water, and spicy-cocoa scents for Claude Monet's Garden at Sainte-Adresse to make all the things in the painting smell how they might in real life.
Claude Monet (French, 1840â1926). Garden at Sainte-Adresse, 1867. Oil on canvas; 38 5/8 x 51 1/8 in. (98.1 x 129.9 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, special contributions and funds given or bequeathed by friends of the Museum, 1967 (67.241)
Sound Paintings
I later decided to continue experimenting with sound by creating touch-sensitive paintings, and I used another Monet painting, Jean Monet (1867â1913) on His Hobby Horse, as my first prototype.
Claude Monet (French, 1840â1926). Jean Monet (1867â1913) on His Hobby Horse, 1872. Oil on canvas; 23 7/8 x 29 1/4 in. (60.6 x 74.3 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Sara Lee Corporation, 2000 (2000.195)
I created a switch for each element of the painting using tools similar to those used for the replica of the Power Figure (Nkisi N'Kondi: Mangaaka) so that they would produce a specific sound when touched. The switch is made of two layers of copper sheets: one sheet is connected to the ground and the other to the Arduino's power pin. I divided one of the layers into four pieces, all cut in the shape of the painting's four elements: the horse, the child, the ground, and the bushes. I used four different sounds: an ambient nature sound for the bushes, a child talking, a horse neighing, and the sound of moving carriage wheels. I put resistors, or devices that control the flow of electricity in a circuit, between each piece to differentiate them so that when one of the four elements is pressed, the specific switch is activated and it plays the corresponding sound.
A switch for Jean Monet (1867â1913) on His Hobby Horse, made with copper sheets and resistors. Image courtesy of the author
Conclusion
In my internship in the MediaLab, I had the chance to collaborate with people from many different departments at the Museum and learn about new technologies, and I had access to many resources, including 3D printers and prototyping tools. I was able to use my interests and expertise to create accessibility solutions and a more engaging and welcoming museum experience. Multisensory Met started out as an idea based on my interest in creating multisensory experiences and became a new possibility for the Museum.
Edited by Gurminder K. Bhambra, Kerem Nisancioglu and Dalia Gebrial
In 2015, students at the University of Cape Town demanded the removal of a statue of Cecil Rhodes, the imperialist, racist business magnate, from their campus. The battle cry '#RhodesMustFall' sparked an international movement calling for the decolonisation of the world's universities.
Today, as this movement grows, how will it radically transform the terms upon which universities exist? In this book, students, activists and scholars discuss the possibilities and the pitfalls of doing decolonial work in the home of the coloniser, in the heart of the establishment. Subverting curricula, enforcing diversity, and destroying old boundaries, this is a radical call for a new era of education.
Offering resources for students and academics to challenge and resist coloniality inside and outside the classroom, Decolonising the University provides the tools for radical pedagogical, disciplinary and institutional change.
Art history lags behind other disciplines in incorporating art by black and ethnic minorities argues Richard Hylton
Source
Image: Frank Bowling, South America Squared, 1967
Frank Bowlingâs forthcoming major retrospective at Tate Britain has been a long time coming. So long, in fact, that visitors to it will be able to âexperienceâ what Tate describes as âthe entirety of Bowlingâs 60-year careerâ. As âone of Britainâs most visionary paintersâ who âwent on to study at the Royal College of Art alongside David Hockney and RB Kitajâ, and who âbecame the first Black artist nominated as a Royal Academicianâ, Bowling has finally been recognised by the upper echelons of the UK art establishment. Like Rasheed Araeenâs retrospective in 2017-18, organised by the Van Abbemuseum in Eindoven before touring to the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art in Gateshead (as well as Genevaâs MAMCO and Moscowâs Garage Museum of Contemporary Art) that charted Araeenâs 60-year career (Interview AM413), Bowlingâs retrospective characterises recent institutional attempts at slowly inserting black artists into British art history. It is difficult to overstate the significance of these exhibitions. Both Bowling and Araeen are in their 80s. Furthermore, these shows mark a break from posthumous recognition bestowed on artists such as Ronald Moody, Aubrey Williams, Anwar Jalal Shemza and Donald Rodney.
 Accompanying the display of substantial bodies of work spanning several decades are equally substantial monographs on Bowling and Araeen respectively, which include essays by a coterie of curators, critics and art historians. These exhibitions and monographs reflect the museum sectorâs continuing attempts to diversify the canon. But is academiaâs instrumental contribution to these exhibitions evidence of a move towards expansive and pluralised notions of art history? In any number of retrospective exhibitions staged in the UK over the past few years, including those on Hannah Höch, Eva Hesse, Thomas Ruff, KĂ€the Kollwitz and more recently Joan Jonas, Anni Albers and Franz West, academics often play key roles, be it as curators, writers or advisers. Often testament to their sustained and prolonged academic inquiry, it follows that these artists figure prominently in course offerings on modern and contemporary art. Given that postwar black artists have been largely excised from dominant art history narratives, is the academy suitably equipped to follow the museum sector in diversifying its curriculum or does its role in historical revisionism mask prevailing racial and cultural hierarchies within art history? This article considers the racial and cultural politics of academe in the UK today. It argues that while feminist-based theories, for example, have played an instrumental role in challenging notions of the canon, conversely post-colonial discourse in its many forms, though equally important, remains largely marginalised if non-existent across the course offerings of many art history departments in the UK. Concepts of difference and pluralism are presently more widely reflected in the UK, not least by universities eager to project themselves as tolerant and inclusive environments. However, from their curricula to employment practices, academe remains largely impervious and resistant to change. Is this a consequence of an unspoken white privilege which continues to pervade and dominate the field of art history?
In 2000, as part of a presentation for my MA in History of Art, I explored the politics of black artists in British art. Ruminating on why Bowling had been and continued to be frozen out of mainstream narratives of British art, I showed Whoâs Afraid of Barney Newman, 1968, from Bowlingâs now widely acclaimed map paintings series. The paintings represented an amalgamation of ideas pertaining to abstraction and representation, culture and identity, as well as being a witty homage to the revered US painter Barnett Newman. Comprising shimmering green and red sections, intersected by a luminous yellow crevice, reminiscent of Newmanâs signature âzipâ motif, a faint but discernible white outline of the map of Guyana, Bowlingâs country of birth, reinforced the interplay between representation and abstraction. This confluence of narratives and entry points to Bowlingâs work were, so I thought, sufficient to spark and sustain a productive discussion in an art history context. However, at the end of my presentation, and possibly as a means of igniting discussion within the student group, an art history lecturer ventured the opinion that the UK was awash with painters working in studios waiting to be discovered. Although a fleeting, if not flippant comment which would not find its way into print, the lecturerâs observation did represent for me a certain hostility within art history teaching towards asserting that the art world is a racially structured space. This personal experience took place within what could be considered a relatively liberal and progressive art history department. Nevertheless, it embodied, in microcosm, the formidable challenges and obstacles within art history. For the record, in 2000, at the age of 65, Bowling was not âwaiting to be discoveredâ. His exemplary practice and the high regard in which he was held was reflected in many important exhibitions of his work in the UK and the US, which belied his systematic exclusion from the mainstream art world. In the intervening years, Bowlingâs stock has risen significantly within the museum arena, yet art history teaches us nothing; despite a plethora of awards, exhibitions and critical attention, we are offered only a selective view of history. Tateâs foregrounding of Bowlingâs time working alongside Hockney and Kitaj is a case in point. Scouring Tate: A History from 1998 by Frances Spalding reveals not a single mention of Bowling. Following Lubaina Himid being heralded as the oldest practitioner to win the coveted Turner Prize, the BBC glibly commented that âHimid made her name in the 1980s as one of the leaders of the British black arts movement â both painting and curating exhibitions of similarly overlooked artistsâ. Where Bowling is now seamlessly positioned as part of postwar British art, Himidâs recognition was framed by a casual acknowledgement of âsimilarly overlooked artistsâ. These seemingly different forms of historical recovery nullify rather than address the incalculable damage systematic art-world exclusions have had and continue to have both on individual practitioners and on wider narratives of art history.
Art historians and cultural theorists have offered insightful texts which could in many ways be considered as templates for reading and complicating conceptions of British art history. For example, Kobena Mercerâs essay âEthnicity and Internationality: New British Art and Diaspora-Based Blacknessâ from 2000, published in Third Text (whose founding editor was Araeen), considered âthe curious position(s) of diaspora artists amidst the contradictory forces of art world globalisation and regressive localismâ, thereby intervening to address the stranglehold yBas had on art history. Such important essays, however, remain at academiaâs periphery.
The weighty monograph which accompanies Araeenâs retrospective synergises the museum and academia. The publication includes ten texts charting Araeenâs enduring and expansive career as an artist, curator, writer, publisher and editor. This formidable collection of essays by academics such as Michael Newman, Marcus du Sautoy, Zöe Sutherland, John Roberts and Courtney J Martin (who, interestingly, is also a contributor to Bowlingâs monograph) leaves us with plenty to ponder, with titles such as âThird Text: Modernism and Negritude, and the Critique of Ethnicityâ, âDialectics of Modernity and Counter Modernityâ , âPolitics of Symmetryâ and âEquality, Resistance, Hospitality: Abstraction and Universality in the Work of Rasheed Araeenâ and so on. Nick Aikensâs decision, as the publicationâs editor, to primarily call on academics is in many respects in keeping with the conventions of such retrospective tomes. When considered in relation to academia, however, it does raise a question about what function this writing has as part of a wider commitment to challenging what Charles Esche describes in his preface to the monograph as âthe partiality and blindness of Eurocentric modernismâ. Is this writing on Araeen akin to an otherwise absent parent who lavishes copious birthday gifts on their child? The relative paucity of teaching within academia on postwar black artists does temper the critical triumphalism of Araeenâs monograph. The contributorsâ biographies alone suggest that their essays here are, almost without exception, a break from their usual artists or areas of interest. Is there a correlation between the type of voices of authority who now champion excluded practitioners and the voices which previously ignored their exclusion?
Cultural theorists and art historians have contributed an immense range of scholarship, much of it academic, which has done much to expand and challenge received notions of art history. Three anthologies produced between 1999 and 2008 explored key themes spanning contemporary African art as an emerging force during the 1990s, the re-examination of art from the colonial period, and new discourses on modern and contemporary art. Reading the Contemporary: African Art from Theory to the Market Place, 1999, edited by Olu Oguibe and Okwui Enwezor, pooled a wide range of articles from journals and exhibition catalogues published between 1991 and 1997, written by art historians, anthropologists and cultural theorists such as Kwame Anthony Appiah, Mercer, VY Mudimbe, Laura Mulvey, Everlyn Nicodemus, Chika Okeke and John Picton. Similarly, Race-ing Art History: Critical Readings in Race and Art History, 2002, edited by Kymberly N Pinder, includes a broad collection of writing but this time using a narrower âhistorical lensâ, primarily focusing on art from the 19th and 20th centuries but also including art from âantiquity to the middle ages, and Modernism and its âPrimitiveâ Legacyâ in order to reconsider historical painting, through to the work of artists such as Sargent Johnson, Horace Pippin and Jean-Michel Basquiat. Then there is Annotating Artâs Histories: Cross-Cultural Perspectives in the Visual Arts 2005-08, co-published by MIT Press and edited by Mercer, which further exemplifies critical thinking emanating from academia. The first volume, Cosmopolitan Modernisms, 2005, offered what Mercer described as âa partial and provisional review of how we have arrived at the current state of play with regard to understanding cultural difference, not as an arbitrary irrelevance that detracts from the âessenceâ of art, nor as a social problem to be managed by compensatory policies, but as a distinctive feature of modern art and modernity that was always there and which is not going to go awayâ. Unlike the previous two anthologies, Mercerâs series was primarily based on new writing, but in keeping with their aspiration it too âsets out to question the depth of our historical understanding of cultural differenceâ. We could also cite art journals such as Third Text, Nka Journal of Contemporary African Art and Small Axe, launched in 1987, 1993 and 1997 respectively, which have also, to varying degrees, been supported by those based in the academic world. But why has this wealth of publishing been unable to have any impact on the presumed white authority which continues to underpin the teaching of art history? The histories of black artists were often considered as separate if not largely irrelevant to art history. Today, museums are historicising and incorporating black artists into British art historyâs grand narrative; but does this now present a conundrum for art history departments? It is an understatement to suggest that those responsible for managing art history departments think more carefully about what constitute core subjects and specialisms in the 21st century. Artist Mary Evansâs eloquent observation that âthe political, social, and cultural dynamics of modern Britain are in many respects the legacy of Britainâs imperial pastâ provides an enticing starting point for narrating postwar British art. Rather than being seen as limited or specialist, though, such an approach to art history should be seen as a challenge to existing conventions. This is not a new proposition.
Art historians and cultural critics have for decades challenged the formidable orthodoxies on which art history has prevailed and been taught. Art historian Linda Nochlinâs groundbreaking essay âWhy Are There No Great Women Artistsâ, 1971, and John Bergerâs seminal television series and book Ways of Seeing, 1972, both exploded myths about the production, dissemination and interpretation of art. Exposing the gendered and socially stratified but unspoken narratives which governed art history, Nochlin and Berger brought not only new readings to the canon, but they also by necessity explicitly critiqued the epistemologies of art history. Influenced by this work, art historian Griselda Pollock recently noted in an updated preface to Old Mistresses: Women, Art and Ideology, 1981, which she co-authored with Rozsika Parker, that a book âmerely trying to add back the missing names of women was doomed to failureâ. Instead, it proposed a critique of the structural sexism in the discipline of art history itself. Such critical approaches are integral to art history teaching. Peggy Phelanâs Unmarked: The Politics of Performance, 1993, and Amelia Jonesâs Body Art: Performing the Subject, 1998, were staple texts within my History of Art MA. In different ways, both went beyond merely arguing for representation within the canon to disrupting its convention (for Jones, it was âthe particular potential of body art to destabilise the structures of conventional art history and art criticismâ). In this context, is it possible to understand the limitations of historical revisionism as a means of upholding convention?
In âThe Difficulties of Naming White Thingsâ, 2012, Eddie Chambers offers a series of cogent observations about the often-unspoken conventions which are hidden in plain sight but permeate art history and academia. He expresses the âfrustration of not being able to call what generally passes as art history white art history, even though, with its consistent omissions and partial accounts, that is what the universities of the country are by and large serving up within their art history departmentsâ. Beyond what Griselda Pollock termed as challenging art historyâs âstructural sexismâ, Chambers identifies what he considers to be âan uncomfortable and frequently unacknowledged racialised schism within art history and academiaâ. In the US some discipline areas are now habitually demarcated along racial lines, such as âAfrican Americanistâ, âAfricanist artâ, âAfrican diasporaistsâ. In the UK, academeâs gravitation towards courses such as âglobal perspectivesâ or ânon-Western artâ may represent concessions to notions of inclusivity and diversity but, equally, these euphemistic and all-encompassing terms also serve to reinforce racial hierarchies within art history.
Keeping difference at armâs length and maintaining the unspoken but explicit racial stratification within academia supports the status quo. This is an unsatisfactory situation not aided by the disparity between the number of white and black academics across the range of the UKâs universities, which is striking. Employment statistics paint a bleak picture. In 2011, it was reported in the Guardian that 50 out of 14,000 British professors were black, while in 2016/17, 25 black women and 90 black men could be counted among 19,000 professors. In Inside the Ivory Tower: Narratives of women of colour surviving and thriving in British academia, Deborah Gabriel describes this situation as reflecting the unspoken âwhite privilegeâ which pervades academia and plays a critical role in perpetuating inequality. The situation is all the more perverse when considered against the significant numbers of black artists who have received honorary degrees from universities wanting to be seen to be progressive.
Today, marketing strategies and campaigns used by universities are key for the recruitment of fee-paying students. These promotional and often formulaic campaigns, across the sector, project university life as enjoyable, aspirational and inclusive. Perusing the plethora of university websites it is noticeable how prominent black people have become in this marketing. Conversely, delve a little deeper into these university websites and their academic departments, and black people are often conspicuous by their absence. While statistics testify to enduring inequality, in todayâs market-driven educational economy the absence of black faculty carries even greater significance. Pursuing a career in academia is by no means the only purpose of a university education, yet, on current evidence, and despite the increase in numbers of black and Asian people receiving degrees, it seems that a sector eager to educate these students remains less inclined to employ them. Such realities temper the current university fad for advertising employment success rates of graduates.
The racialised employment practices of universities raise questions about the veracity and the purpose of equality statements and equal opportunity monitoring forms. Beyond liberal posturing, what purpose do such bureaucratic mechanisms serve? Racial inequality is an issue across academia but is there an area where it remains more pronounced than in the privileged world of art history? Women have undoubtedly fought hard to prosper here but, with few exceptions, art history departments remain as white today as they were 30 or 40 years ago. Is this responsible for black British scholars seeking opportunities in the US? Despite the critical triumphalism which underpins Bowling and Araeenâs retrospectives, day-to-day teaching of art history appears impervious to the changes proposed by the very scholarship it is producing. Clearly, what is needed is a more sustained engagement with a wider body of black artistsâ histories. Equally, diversifying the curriculum needs to be supported by more sustained efforts to decolonise academia.
Richard Hylton is a writer and researcher based in London.
Why Contemporary Women Artists Are Obsessed with the Grotesque
If artists are generally boundary-crossers, a younger generation of (mostly women) artists is going for full penetrationâmaking artworks that speak to something deep in the body, producing responses that range from carnal attraction to disgust.Among the most potently grotesque examples are Tala Madaniâs nightmarish babies and dystopian fantasies of voyeurism and violence, and Jala Wahidâs visceral, sculptural allusions to cuts of meat and dismembered organs and body parts. Or take Marianna Simnettâs unsettling, darkly comic videos that bring to life imagined narratives of bodily invasionsâincluding a gruesome nasal operation and a fable about varicose veins and cockroaches-cum-cyborgs. Then thereâs Maisie Cousinsâs glossy, close-up images of a wet soup of food, decaying plants, and bodies, which recall the more appalling corners of Cindy Shermanâs imagination. In painting and drawing, too, the grotesque is rampant, with elastic, deformed, or monstrous bodies populating works by Christina Quarles, Ebecho Muslimova, Jana Euler, and Dana Schutz.
A federal court has ruled that the US intelligenceâs surveillance program exposed by whistleblower Edward Snowden was unlawful, and possibly unconstitutional.
NSA confirms that Edward Snowden was right, their mass surveillance program was illegal.
A Vernacular WebThe Indigenous and The BarbariansWhen I started to work on the World Wide Web I made a few nice things that were special, different and fresh. They were very different from what was on the web in the mid 90's.
I'll start with a statement like this, not to show off my contribution, but in order to stress that -- although I consider myself to be an early adopter -- I came late enough to enjoy and prosper from the "benefits of civilization". There was a pre-existing environment; a structural, visual and acoustic culture you could play around with, a culture you could break. There was a world of options and one of the options was to be different.
So what was this culture? What do we mean by the web of the mid 90's and when did it end?
To be blunt it was bright, rich, personal, slow and under construction. It was a web of sudden connections and personal links. Pages were built on the edge of tomorrow, full of hope for a faster connection and a more powerful computer. One could say it was the web of the indigenous...or the barbarians. In any case, it was a web of amateurs soon to be washed away by dot.com ambitions, professional authoring tools and guidelines designed by usability experts.
I wrote that change was coming "soon" instead of putting an end date at 1998, for example, because there was no sickness, death or burial. The amateur web didn't die and it has not disappeared but it is hidden. Search engine rating mechanisms rank the old amateur pages so low they're almost invisible and institutions don't collect or promote them with the same passion as they pursue net art or web design.
Also new amateur pages don't appear at such amounts as ten years ago because the WWW of today is a developed and highly regulated space. You wouldn't get on the web just to tell the world, "Welcome to my home page." The web has diversified, the conditions have changed and there's no need for this sort of old fashioned behavior. Your CV is posted on the company website or on a job search portal. Your diary will be organized on a blog and your vacation photos are published on iphoto. There's a community for every hobby and question.
This is why I refer to the amateur web as a thing of the past; aesthetically a very powerful past. Even people who weren't online in the last century, people who look no further than the first 10 search engine results can see the signs and symbols of the early web thanks to the numerous parodies and collections organized by usability experts who use the early elements and styles as negative examples.
Just as clothing styles come back into fashion so do web designs. On a visual level things reappear. Last year I noticed that progressive web designers returned to an eclectic style reincorporating wallpapers and 3D lettering in their work. In the near future frames and construction signs will show up as retro and the beautiful old elements will be stripped of their meaning and contexts.
In the past few years I've also been making work that foregrounds this disappearing aesthetic of the past. With these works I want to apologize for my arrogance in the early years and to preserve the beauty of the vernacular web by integrating them within contemporary art pieces. But this is only half of the job.
Creating collections and archives of all the midi files and animated gifs will preserve them for the future but it is no less important to ask questions. What did these visual, acoustic and navigation elements stand for? For which cultures and media did these serve as a bridge to the web? What ambitions were they serving? What problems did they solve and what problems did they create? Let me talk about the difficult destiny of some of these elements.
Be overwhelmed by Babel, Meirelesâ 2001 artwork, which explores information overload and failed communication
Cildo Meireles refers to Babel as a âtower of incomprehensionâ. Comprising hundreds of radios, each tuned to a different station, the sculpture relates to the biblical story of the Tower of Babel, a tower tall enough to reach the heavens. God was offended by this structure, and caused the builders to speak in different languages. No longer able to understand one another, they became divided and scattered across the earth, and so began all mankindâs conflicts.
Babel consists of analogue radios of varying ages, from large valve radios dating from the 1920s, which make up the bottom tiers of the tower, to the smaller mass-produced electronic radios of more recent years, which form its summit. By using radios of decreasing size from the floor to the ceiling, Meireles enhances the sense of the towerâs height.
âThe quantity and diversity of radios and all the different types of sound objectsâ that he saw in the bargain shops of New Yorkâs Canal Street inspired the Brazilian artistâs choice of material.
âRadios are interesting because they are physically similar and at the same time each radio is unique,â
Meireles has commented. Likewise, the noise produced by Babel is constant, but the precise mix of broadcast voices and music is always changing, so that no two experiences of this work are ever the same.
The Ardorous is a platform for female artists showcasing individual and collaborative projects between a collective of female creative professionals â all full of ardor but each with a unique artistic style and voice. Curated by Petra Collins
âI messaged women who I loved; thatâs how I got work and connected with people.â
This blog acted a female-run space for other female artists to share and exhibit their works, providing a space for them in a male-domindated art world.Â
The internet has opened up access for minorities and females to regain conrol over their agency within art, able to share and exhibit however they would like without the oppressive role of white-dominated, male-dominated art institutions.
Internet Art: The Online Clash of Culture and Commerce by Julian Stallabrass
The development of Internet art has been short and rapid and dates from the introduction of web browsers in the mid-1990s. Artists realized the potential of a medium and system of delivery that side-stepped the mainstream art institutions and allowed them to make direct contact with an audience. Their interventions have ranged from works that deconstruct the browser itself, to works that shade into political activism. Internet art has been international, with distinct contributions emerging from the US, the Far East, Europe, the countries of the former Eastern Bloc, and the Third World. As the sophistication, range, and numbers of works made for the Internet has burgeoned, major art institutions have moved in, attempting to host and curate them, to ambivalent responses from the artists themselves. Internet art raises fundamental questions about the definition and value (both aesthetics and monetary) of the art object, art's role, and its relationship to its public, and the future of the current art establishment.
At A Distance: Precursors to Art and Activisim on the Internet
edited by Annmarie Chandler and Norie Neumark
Networked collaborations of artists did not begin on the internet. In this multidisciplinary look at the practice of art that takes place across a distance - geographical, temporal, or emotional - theorists and practitioners examine the ways that art, activism and media fundamentally reconfigure each other in experimental networked projects from 1970-1980s.Â
By providing a context for this work - showing that it was shaped by varying mixes of social relations, cultural strategies and political and aesthetic concerns - At A Distance effectively refutes the widely accepted idea that networked art is technologically determined. Doing so, it provides the historical grounding needed for a more complete understanding of todayâs practices of Internet art and activism and suggests the possibilities inherent in networked practice
Background: THINX is a feminine care brand that made waves in it use of pro-female marketing, showing real blood, body positivity etc.Â
Ironically enough, a mere few months before the THNX frenzy, something suspicious happened. Visual arist and Instagram sensation Rupi Kaur had a series of photographs of a fully clothed model, her clothing lightly stained with period blood, twice removed from [Instagram] as a violation of its terms of service. Kaurâs work is distinctly feminine, using the soft lighting and pastel coloring that has allowed brands like THINX to appear unassumingly authentic. Such nuanced comparisons bring about a crucial question: why is it that feminist-leaning ad campaigns are allowed to grow massively popular on social media platforms, but user-generated content of a similar nature is often censored?
Skirky asks âWhat happens next?ââno doubt imagining future waves of digital protesters. But he has already answered the question. What happens next is more of the same. A networked, weak-tie world is good at things like helping Wall Streeters get phones back from teen-age girls. Viva la revoluciĂłn. âŠ
-Â Christiane Paulâs keynote presentation was part of âLives of Net Artâ, a series of events exploring how contemporary artists use the internet, as well as reflecting on the possibilities the internet has offered artists from the 1990s to the present day. In her presentation, Paul focuses on the challenges museums face when displaying and preserving net art.
- the early net.art was a mostly European movement. it was more playful - and people took this to mean it was naive which isnât fair to say
- everyone could tell this medium was going to become commercialised due to is fun and engaging nature.
- in 1996, Rhizome was founded to host the net art of these artists.Â
- she described an internet 1.0 and 2.0. she talks about a work wherein the artist had to work with lawyers the entire time because copyright laws had been so tightly rewritten in 2.0. He took 1 million faces from facebook and made a dating website with them. it is true to say that internet 1.0, the first public version of the web, was more loose and free from restriction and regulation. I wonder what x.x version of the internet we are in right now.
- works where artists would invade chatrooms or mmos like second life and reenact theatre plays.Â
- an example of a 2.0 work is Amalia Ulman, who performs in a very different way on platforms such as instagrams.Â
- part of that identity is the practice of life broadcasting, webcam blogging.Â
- Jennicam - not conceived as an artwork but considered by many to be one - is a work that demonstrates web 2.0âČs performance of identity in its brutal everyday honesty. that work is substantially different from what we would see on YouTube or chatroulette, for example the works of Petra Cortright.
- No Fun, a live video performance where Franco pretended to hang himself, and the recorded live response to the show.Â
- eToy were leading and inventing new structures for the net artists, creating a corporate structure network to practice, thereby being in control of the commerce related to it. thatâs very different to the projects related to digital labour.Â
- there was a lot of artistic practice that used the web for activism. âthe revolution will not be tweetedâ
- Clement Valla postcards from google earth. these are stills from Google Earth where the map glitches. Paul mentions how net artists are rarer thewe days, and much of art is multimedia. for example, these pieces can be seen online and also are made into installation pieces to be placed in the gallery
- on the one hand, net art is very much alive. on the other, net art has tremendously changed from its 1.0 to 2.0 to so-called âpost internet manifestation.
- Stupart is an artist, writer and educator from South Africa
- she talks about abjection, a feeling we use to describe when something both repels and attracts us at the same time.Â
- when something crosses a boundary, it becomes disgusting. for example, bodily fluids. we swallow our saliva all day everyday, but the thought spitting into a cup and drinking it is disgusting. we know we are full of blood, but then this blood leaves the body through a wound or a period, it becomes disgusting
- she notes some also feel the same about refugees. when refugees are in their own countries, our culture pities them and fights for their rights. however once they cross the borders to escape, they become abject and our culture sees them as a burden.
- Stupart describes herself as a âspell-writerâ artist.Â
- Spells to bind male artists from killing you is an example of one of her works. Men have historically contributed or endorsed the murder of female artists who became âtoo powerfulâ and challenged or questioned the patriarchy. Much of Marina Abramovicâs early career was marred by violence from her viewers and contemporaries.
- Work depicting females cutting or harming themselves are often criticised as being âhysteriaâ - there is no allowance for interpretation, contemplation or critque because of our history of trivialising female emotion, deeming them unimportant or over-the-top.
- However in art, when a male is depicting as harming or cutting themselves, it is often considered profound and vulnerable.Â
She tells us of a popular example. When Britney Spears released her music video for âEverytimeâ depicting a metaphorical suicide, she was lambasted and attacked for the âpromotionâ of self harm and glamorisation of suicide. The vulnerability and underlying issue of her artistic expression of the mental pressure she was under as a teenage âMiss American Dreamâ were not appreciated or even recognised.Â
Hereâs the part that I always come back to when making art
 - Stupart has made her works (spells) into free-to-download recipes for anyone to print off and follow themselves at home, essentially making her performance art re-creatable and open source. She talks about the element of spirituality in her work, and how it is not about monetary profit but the principle and access to it that is more important to the wider context of spell casting.