Fault Line Vol.1 #4, Winter 2006-07

Fault Line is an irregularly- produced forum for free contemporary criticism and commentary. The purpose of Fault Line is to encourage interest, argument and pleasure, and comments and complaints are welcome. Fault Line is an online project, which exists as a bulletin sent via attachment (Word or PDF format) to a list of subscribers, and a Blog site to allow for reader feedback and anonymous postings. Future projects may include a broadsheet or magazine. Articles featuring art criticism or arts-related topics are welcome in a variety of formats (including poetry and humour). We favour shorter pieces (typically 250 to 1500 words) and accessible, engaging writing wherever possible. The art discussed needn't be current or local but the sense of occasion should be. To add your name to our subscriber list, or to send submissions, please correspond by e-mail to faultline@telus.net. Post comments at http://faultlineartjournalvictoria.blogspot.com.

Upcoming

Fault Line is seeking submissions of writing on ongoing exhibitions, and we hope to release another bulletin in early spring. As you can see in our ‘Briefly Noted’ segment, short submissions – particularly in the case of multiple submissions on a single subject- are welcome. They help draw attention to work that might not otherwise receive a broad enough audience, and encourage the kind of informal discussion that so often lays the groundwork for more thorough involvement, here and elsewhere. Thanks for your contribution! Our spring issue will feature (delayed) notes from the AGGV’s Fantastic Frameworks exhibition, as well as further field notes on Victoria’s alternative visual arts community (see interview below).

Inga Rommer at the Slide Room Gallery/at the Fifty-Fifty

“Yes that’s better. It’s like before, Baroque.” I am helping to hang a show of Inga Romer’s paintings in the front room of the Fifty-Fifty Arts Collective. This is the second time we’ve worked together this way, and the language used to communicate questions of placement has become paired-down. “Yes, that’s it”, or “It’s too much”, are momentarily enough: the relative colour, scale, and proximity of the paintings in relation to one another, how high or low on the walls they need to be, and also what kinds of correspondences the different works maintain between their own tenuous connection and the architectural foibles of the space. But why “Baroque?”

Romer is hanging the work in what she refers to as a ‘rhizomatic crawl’: paintings spread out across space, hopscotching from low to high, paired off or strung along. The paintings are not evenly sized or spaced, and a lot of their impact as a grouping would seem to depend upon a certain random energy in their placement. Having said that, our discussion when hanging the pieces is distinctly contemplative. The first time I stepped into a roomful of Rommer’s work (the MFA graduate show at the University of Victoria) I sensed the space drifting apart from the raucous concourse: it became distinctly open and light, drafty even.

Trying to read Romer’s paintings as forcefully energetic fails: there is a certain awkwardness in their coming together compositionally. The painted forms –overlays of variously coloured linework depicting objects but especially parts of places – mostly do not create a central concern of the kind that agitates a speculative view and absorbs and throws back a direct gaze. Areas of ignition between the overlays -and there are many- do not gradually arrive at some bigger constellation or vortex of attention. Instead, they shift the penetrative gaze to one side. The eye catches one form, is drawn into another, and can often seem to slide right off the surface. In this sense, the pictures are not ‘tight’: old-school painting-argot for a will to self-reflexivity, autonomy and implied pleasure-as-rigour whose most famous name-check is Cezanne. Trailing off of the edge of one of Rommer’s painting, the viewer’s attention might as easily slip onto a piece of nearby ductwork as onto the loose strands of an adjacent picture, most likely both. The pictures can be almost vacuously clean looking, but the relations are promiscuous and run to plurality.

Looking for ‘rhizomatic’ I refer myself to an essay by Gilles Deleuze, “Rhizome Versus Trees”…Deleuze says that the model of fragmentation so ingrained in the modern experience (from cubist collage to The Wasteland to twelve-tone music) always refers back to a centre, which has been lost but is still present as a conspicuous, magnetic absence. The rhizome is something else: a network of independent parts whose relationship is not held together by the anti-matter of loss, but by momentary, arbitrary contingencies…Modular, but endlessly compatible.

The week I read this definition, I went to see the Fantastic Frameworks show at the AGGV and wandered into Yayoi Kusama’s tentacle-like polka-dotted forms sprouting from the floor. The pieces look uncannily sensible (sensitive and/or sense-able), meaning that the dots -which one gradually recognizes have all been painted by hand- keep pushing the bright, matte colour-shapes into an optical-tactile tug of war that makes them visually very mobile. One minute they’re a bit of graphic interference, the next minute they’re rigid silhouettes against a flat blur of wall. The accumulative effect of repeatedly apprehending the forms from different points of view is a powerful sensation of stasis (those hand-dotted dots) fighting with a creeping suspicion of immanent animation.

My suspicion is that Rommer’s works are also working out of the confusion of static/ dynamic relations. Her colours effect a shift from form to form via inscrutable likeness –tone on tone, as in the steely grey blues descending into cast iron blacks or oily flat browns – or analogous hues, typically vibrating yellows, oranges, reds or crimsons, whose juxtaposition seems to create a ‘third man’, an added sense of richness and profusion. This kind of palette could be traced back through painters the artist is certainly very familiar with, Oskar Kokoschka and (a generation earlier) Lovis Corinth. Both use a slippery palette and a demonstrative, generous hand to create leaps from stroke to stroke and form to form. Thus a lot of classic Kokoschka (and much late Corinth) looks like meat falling off the bone, recalling the cook’s definition of the verb ‘render’. This approach deployed in heroic figural tableau expresses a compressed version of the Baroque ‘grand tragic drama’, as in Kokoschka’s Windsbraut of 1912, or Corinth’s turn-of-the-century scenes of the deposition

Romer’s compositions lack the urgency engendered by the presence of dramatis personae, thus the ‘weakness’. It is replaced with a connection to the space, and colours that no longer look as if their flesh (as it were) wears any bones at all, at least within the limits of the support. Instead, the grounds of her canvasses (tailor-mades with flat, titanium-acrylic finish) collude with the walls of the space, and the slips of colour half-fixing the forms, the outer-extent of the grasp of our sensations, like afterimages of glare, roving from one blank spot to another. There is a figure, then, in Rommer’s installations, that is, the viewer as a passive character, gradually pulled apart by the tangents of experience. At its best, Romer’s installations feel ‘Baroque’, because the development of a subject through a dynamic (yet monumental, = encompassing) movement from one state through many others is –as in The Ecstasy of St. Theresa or a Fugue by Purcell- a subject of the Baroque.

Recently I found myself at a Christmas party with the artist, leaning over a living room railing that opened out onto a sudden drop. It turned out to be an indoor swimming pool that had been drained for ages, and was dark, cracked and patched, magnifying its depths. To look at it, was to feel an internal lurch forming in the chest, a convex-surface-of-the-moon. One became much too conscious of the rail as part of a formula in which the torso needed to supply its rightful half of some obscure but resonant angle. “You’re going to use this space aren’t you” I said. “Yeah, I guess I have to”, she said.

J.L.

Alan Kollins and The Fifty Fifty Arts Collective

Recently I had the opportunity to write some notes on the developing art scene in Victoria for Mix magazine. The article’s focus was on the last three to five years, with the underlying point that cities, schools, ‘scenes’ and the like enjoy cycles of activity and that Victoria seemed to be enjoying one now. As a research project, this was great fun, though of the desperate variety, for the usual reasons (a short timeline to write; an even shorter final word count in the end). In an upcoming posting, I hope to be able to include more of the raw material, or an expanded version of what will appear in Mix shortly.

In the meantime, it would not be right to let January pass without some acknowledgement of the Fifty-Fifty Arts Collective’s anniversary (maybe not a precise anniversary, but looking back to the ‘Grand Reopening’ in January of 2004, and also the claim –via the collective’s MySpace Site- that the Fifty Fifty is a Capricorn!) Whether many Victorians are aware of it, the Fifty-Fifty performs a role that is absolutely vital in helping to galvanize the city’s music/arts scenes.

In art history lectures that tend perforce to focus on ‘greatest hits’ (Paris before the Great War, Zurich in 1916, Berlin in the ‘20’s, New York in the 50’s, etc.), I try to always remind students that a milieu – people coming together for all kinds of artistic practices, social and political activities, pleasure and entertainment, in a way that is spontaneous, fugitive, and without support, permission or endorsement- is what generates the art that decorates calendars and coffee mugs half a century or more later. Allan Kollins and the Fifty-Fifty have been supplying an indispensable part of Victoria’s milieu as such for four years.

J.L.

[The following interview was conducted via e-mail, December 15^th, 2006]

J.L.: How did you get started?

A.K.: By default really. A group of friends with creative sensibilities and itching to create programming that wasn’t being served by the music or greater arts community asked me to join their collective in the making shortly before taking over a space in Vic West that formally housed an antique store. (This commercial space had subsequently been renovated for live-in purposes by a friend of ours. however, after time and money was invested in this conversion the landlord feared the legalities of the situation and forced an eviction. unable to recover his costs, the thinking became how to best maximize his own work and ultimately the space was passed on to us without much red tape). I believe it was my film interests that initially perked the collective’s interests in having me as a board member (one of 14). At that time I was immersed in academics and the thought of curatorial and administration work hadn’t even crossed my mind until the situation presented itself. Within 6 months as our board shrunk by half I found myself doing both, with great investment, on a regular basis.

J.L.: How would you describe the evolution of the space from its earlier location/incarnation to its present incarnation?

A.K.: The only dramatic change that comes to mind is the personnel. In the fifty fifty’s lifespan (four years) membership turnover has been relatively consistent. The nature of the work involved, all volunteer, demands commitment and energy that folks with full time jobs and outside interests simply can’t devote over the long haul. I mean, if an artist run centre isn’t sapping the life out of you, you’re probably doing something wrong.

The initial mandate of the fifty fifty has remained the same throughout its tenure in Victoria: provide a multi-purpose exhibition and performance space for emerging artists at no to little cost to the artists. To my mind, the longest standing board members (past and present) take pride in the notion that the initial mandate of the collective remains intact despite various obstacles that arise.

Our most significant alteration was the decision to leave our space in Vic West due in large part to noise complaints and a property management purchase of the building. Following a 4-6 month period of “homelessness” we managed to locate a larger space, more suitable for multi-purpose programming and located more central to the city’s core. We turned over a street level warehouse/storefront that once housed a furniture stripping company; a building that was very close to being sold to the city to build a new and improved bus depot but fell through due to a lobby group compiled of local businesses who wanted to see the city’s central bus station remain downtown. As a result of this political debacle, the space had been vacant for almost a year and not listed for leasing. Thus when we pursued occupancy, the landlord treated any money coming in on the place as gravy and we were able to secure it for a reasonable month-to-month rent. Unheard of in this town, really.

J.L.: What role does it play in terms of an alternative art venue?

A.K.: We house art exhibitions for young and emerging artists usually at the beginning of their careers. We also provide space for experimental and independent music performance, genres that generally have a difficult time finding appropriate venues in Victoria.

J.L.: How do you choose the artists? Is it mostly from people submitting proposals or do you approach known artists and invite them to show?

A.K.: Local artists are encouraged to submit portfolios and rarely do we refuse anyone a show. Given that most of the submissions we receive are from younger artists seeking their first or second exhibition, our only requirement is that they their submission proposal consider our requirements, which in the interests of providing emerging artists with ‘professional’ experience, we request proper portfolio requirements. This is about the only level of sophistication demanded of anyone who exhibits at our space. Artists also gain curatorial experience as our coordinators provide as much room as possible for the visiting artist. The fifty fifty has on occasion hosted group shows that have involved open calls. These generally work to bring the artist community together and raise funds for the collective. One recent example being The Likeness Project, a self portrait show curated by former board member / arts coordinator, Lauren Marsden.

Similarly, music events like Rock Lottery and One Hit Wonder work on an open call basis and promote interactive creativity among working musicians in the local scene. These annual shows are extremely popular and the demand (and city by law restrictions) have forced us to move them off site to larger venues. Themed music shows are ultimately the emotional and psychological pay off for our board as these events demand interactive and hands on programming involvement.

J.L.: Where do you look for funding? How do these play a role (if any) in shaping your public profile/interface?

A.K.: Given that local municipal governments are unwilling to provide operational funding to small upstart art centres functioning on small revenue, much of our funding comes through internal sources (board member rent contributions) and creative programming initiatives such as hosting music shows, off site benefits and in house programs. We have received a couple modest project grants from the city of Victoria, but funding resources beyond this body have proven futile any time we have sought them out.

One of the benefits of the fifty fifty’s revenue system is it actively engages board members to develop their own programming initiatives which usually wins the support and assistance of volunteers and other board members. It has always been the thinking that without events, the space loses site of its creative mandate, its necessary revenue and the fifty fifty will undoubtedly fold. It’s this fear of collapse that keeps the space afloat. I can’t tell you how many directors and board members of Canadian artist run centres have looked at me across an interview table baffled at how the fifty fifty has managed to operate on site for four years with little to no private or gov’t funding. Board members developing programs is uncharted terrain in artist run centre culture. So long as arts funding remains the competitive feeding frenzy that it is, the taboos around in-house programming need to change. It’s a question of survival.

J.L.: How important is the role of individuals (such as yourself) in forming ‘community’ as such?

A.K.: If I don’t exorcise my own programming demons, I will wilt. If community falls into place as a result of this narcissism, great. No harm done.

J.L.: How would you describe the current situation in Victoria in terms of territorial divides (academia, artist-run-centres, home-grown collectives, government institutions, grant-giving bodies...)? Recognizing that this is a huge question, feel free to take on one aspect only.

A.K.: See above

J.L.: How much interplay/cross-pollination do you observe between disciplines/media/venues, etc. (live music, live theatre, visual art, performance art, poetry, etc.)?

A.K.: It’s a large part of how the fifty fifty operates. Our mandate demands that the collective is open to multiple genres and disciplines. This pretty much dictates our programming.

J.L.: Would you describe your current outlook/position as optimistic, wary, ebullient, the product of a sustained feat of incredible stamina, or something fluctuating between these points?

A.K.: All of the above except for ebullient, as I don’t know what this word means. Not even sure I could reach such a state.

J.L.: What events around Victoria (in terms of shows you’ve seen or hosted, people you’ve talked to, politics, etc.) do you consider to be positive signs for a ‘scene’ or community? …Bad signs?

A.K.: Art shows: The Make and its two predecessors. Proof that collectives can form briefly and create effective on-the-fly group exhibits at little costs to the organizers. Music: bands like Frog Eyes, Wolf Parade, Chet, Islands, Imps, Carolyn Mark and co. suggest Victoria’s music scene does not genre bash, incubates for pleasure and provides a breeding ground for an eclectic and recognized alternative music scene. Residents of Austin, TX. don’t know what they are missing up here. Film: lots of work needs to be done to diversify film exhibition in this town. I don’t believe the major festivals are placing enough efforts into their curatorial mandates. Theatre is much more vibrant in Victoria. Perhaps this says something about all the drama on the streets and in the bedrooms of Victoria.

J.L.: Do you plan on staying where you are (or at least in Victoria) for the foreseeable future?

A.K.: Undecided

J.L.: Grants or sales aside, do you feel you’re performing a service?

A.K.: On bad days yes (sometimes curatorial duties feel like babysitting). On good days I am merely feeding my own insatiable need to keep my landscape dynamic. I suspect there are some psychotherapists out there that could say the same.

[thefiftyfifty.net

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=14390793]

Briefly Noted

Flagella Vibrations While waiting in line for caffeine of choice at Cafe Fantastico on Kings road in Victoria, one could easily be lured over to Scott Evans' recent sculpture exhibition. Firstly, the cell structure drawings gently introduce you to a short venture through what one could perceive as a microorganism’s cycle. Interesting juxtapositions between organic materials and plastics are mounted on separate household/everyday items. For example, eloquently placed flora wheels seem to be taking over the kitchen chair seat. "Urgh", I thought to myself. This reminds me of the science project involving examination of a dirty kitchen rag... The rag was a vehicle that spread populations of bacteria around one's abode; we studied the different bacterial families that colonized the rag. Scott Evans' work may suggest the takeover of plastics, and most definitely the spread of various kinds of populations. Goosebumps. However, the nature in which he intricately places the materials conveys an even deeper intellectual message that an individual could only begin to fathom. By the end of the works’ chain, tucked over on the far wall, a giant collaboration awaits. This massive electronic, ship-like cityscape structure hangs there, an intimidating wonderland? It successfully displays detailed nooks and crannies, a world wired by electronics. - Marlene Bouchard