BEGGING for a BOOK PRINTING and BINDING

 

THE STORY IS READ BY THE ARTIST
EXCEPT … PAGES ARE BLANK.

About AN ART BOOK by FIONA CONNOR edition of 100

(The art book was bound by hand by volunteers and presented in the gallery at Red Cat, Los Angeles, January 9 -10, 2016)

By Rosanna Albertini

“A collection of sheets of paper or other substances, blank, written or printed, fastened together as to form a material whole.” The Oxford English Dictionary             

 

Fiona-book

Unfolding the pages, one after the other, Fiona Connor lets the voice flow out of her memory. From January to March, some details have already disappeared. One can follow her journey through Los Angeles from Cloverdale to San Pedro, Santa Monica, Riverside, Ventura, El Segundo, Pasadena, Burbank, asking a few people she had met in the past, but mostly others completely unknown, the favor to print for her as many possible pages, if possible one hundred, of a book she conceived as an art piece made with collective cooperation. A family of printers are from Persia, a young woman is from Australia, and a guy, he just had a baby. Linda, Rich, Tiffany, Lynn, Jesus, Becka, Joyce, Damaris, Ed, Ben, Kat, and everyone else she asked, “kindly obliged” and printed at the bottom of each right hand page the template the artist requested:

‘name’ of the printing machine
address of the place where the printing happened
first name of the person who did the printing work

IMG_3893

IMG_3891

I can’t avoid seeing her as a beggar, the artist who breaks the commercial ritual of buying the service. She becomes the person who serves the needs of the art piece: her feet on the sidewalks of the metropolis or on public transportation; her intention and desire to involve and obtain a certain amount of work everywhere she can find a printing device.

Downtown, while wandering around the gray brownish grid of pavements and buildings, she happens to find herself face to face with Harry Gamboa Jr., another artist who has made himself, for decades, a vessel against the lures of a power based on money. Fiona recognized him, his face often printed in art catalogues and books. It seems they looked at each other, did not talk. Fiona’s private persona is a shy one. For sure, he didn’t know who she was. This story is not in her reading.

IMG_3887

IMG_3883

IMG_3885

 

A conceptual art project in 2016.
The personal mark of the artist isn’t physical. Her name goes along with “the concept.” The © belongs to Red Cat. No author, no title. Therefore the book is left on his/her/its own nature: born from so many it could be an orphan. Or an outcast book mainly white, home of the white noise, unidentified presences. The artist dares to expose the absence of a traditional text as a value: although we see and touch that something is lost, it’s almost impossible to say or write what it is, even if the desire to express it is more than alive. In the XVI and XVII century Europe, this contradictory sentiment – the awareness of missing the point – turned into unfriendly attitudes toward beggars, women, the insane, hermits and illiterate humans: those who didn’t share the common knowledge, and failed to be heard.  Michel de Certeau called MYSTIQUE their lack of knowledge and made them the angels of the Mystique Fable (Fable Mystique, 1982).

I wonder if, unconsciously perhaps, Fiona Connor has reversed history as she often does in her work, so that readers and writers are the ones devoured by our contemporary Mystique Fable. They, we writers, are becoming the excluded from a reality in search of a different medium. Looking for something better than written words. In the meantime, artists try to keep on with ordinary things that have become furniture of the human landscape in our brain, we like to sit on them.

Let’s step back a few decades to the early seventies: Allen Ruppersberg calling for attention to the human matter that goes through words and pages: the living time, more significant than personality. He drew a book perfectly recognizable: Sanctuary by William Faulkner, and added: “Reading time: 12 hrs 43 min.” We shouldn’t forget his visual replica, word by word, by his own hand, of Walden 1973, and The Picture of Dorian Gray 1974.

Fiona Connor instead replicates steps, walls, museum benches, fountains, bulletin boards, bricks. The reverse engineering of the objects, that are very accurately remade, makes it hard to distinguish them from the original. The original could be surprised facing the archival translation of it’s body.

“Art should be familiar and enigmatic, just as human beings themselves”
“Art should make use of common methods and materials so there is very little difference between the talk and the talked about”

Ruppersberg’s thoughts are his own conceptual coat that strangely fits quite well with Fiona Connor’s art. Keeping the similitude between the two artists suspended on the acrobat’s rope, I add one of Allan McCollum’s observations ― about Al Ruppersberg reproducing or even embracing America’s banal traditional rituals ― that I particularly love and feel appropriate to Fiona Connor and our present time:

“In my memory, it was Al who reminded our troubled generation that simple, normal, everyday rituals of human commerce (horrors!) contained a significant complement of decency and joy that needed to be recognized and appreciated ― not in spite of, but along with whatever else might have been wrong with the world in those especially uneasy years.

Our years are not less uneasy, they are only uneasy in a different way.

IMG_3895

Photos: Peter Kirby

A CONCEPTUAL CHURCH

ROBERT BARRY’S Installation at the Bethlehem Baptist Church in Mid Compton, Los Angeles.
A Thomas Solomon exhibition

ART CONCEPT OF NOW

by Rosanna Albertini

EVERYTHING IS PURGED FROM THIS PAINTING
BUT ART, NO IDEAS HAVE ENTERED THIS WORK

Acrylic words on canvas by John Baldessari, 1966-68. I would love to replicated them today, but I can’t. They would become:

NOTHING IS PURGED FROM THIS TEXT ABOUT ART
IDEAS HAVE ENTERED THIS WORK WEARING THE LIQUID DRESS OF THE PRESENT

 

Conceptual art and minimalism have been the thread sewing my philosophical training in contemporary art, still they light in my mind either the joy of understanding or the certainty that understanding as an abstraction has exploded, and more and more words have become images. Ideas themselves might be hung in Plato’s cave, obscured by a big rock blocking the entrance. We want to live first, think sometimes, maybe, and replace explanations with sensations. The artworks, enhancing our conflict between reasonable goals and inner demons, reveal the immense variety of possible worlds, and signal at the same time the power to regenerate, to expand the very idea of language.

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church, Los Angeles Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles
Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

If the page is no longer the privileged garden, other sensory experiences expand the conceptual struggle in different mental spaces. The term conceptual sounds odd because it’s mostly an aura, a breeze around the translation from vague intuitions to physical signs, from calculations to a possible visibility: the new planet, ten times bigger than the earth, has not yet been seen: conceptual astronomy? Why not?

Capital letters grouped into words appear like phantoms on the walls of Los Angeles Bethlehem Baptist Church. I don’t know whether those white words on white walls are a text or not. They climb the walls and seem to be there to be seen, not read. Reading is possible, not mandatory: the art piece has been conceived and realized by artist Robert Barry. The displacement it creates in the visitors, quietly, indirectly, is of the best conceptual texture. Come, recreate yourself in the piece.

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles
Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles
Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

The small church was built by Rudolph Schindler in 1944, abandoned and recently restored by Thomas Solomon to become, temporarily, an art temple. The original building was painted red, blue and black; now it’s white. Words turn around the corners, walk up or down in diagonals, or enjoy being upside down. They become luminous limbs of light, while the church functions as a buffer space between the age of books and the time of a phoenix which is still difficult to describe. A virgin landscape in which the idea herself of a church is condemned.

This church is a house, an open place bringing in from the windows the other houses around, flying birds and airplanes, trees, street noise and voices: the opposite of the isolating, hiding place of the past. The human signs on the walls aren’t very different from frescoes, or from the little white hands painted on the walls of a cave by the vanished Anasazi. (See in The Kite https://albertini2014.wordpress.com/2014/10/23/little-white-hands/) Nevertheless, these almost flying words so light, so out of grammatical or syntactic order, are a pulsing image of our beautiful thoughts in a day of freedom, having lunch on an urban soil. Scattered, luminous shadows of the mind’s children, they show the absurdity of our days: vulnerable and obstinate, broken up but shining like the tail of a comet. After all, as the food plates of Allen Ruppersberg’s Cafe made with dirt, leaves and pebbles were uneatable for the mouth, although devoured by the eyes, Robert Barry’s words slip into the eyes to be chewed by the brain, maybe reinvented.

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles
Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory Photo: Peter Kirby

ROBERT BARRY, 2016 Installation at Bethlehem Church Los Angeles
Courtesy of the artist and Thomas Solomon Art Advisory                   Photo: Joshua White / JW Pictures

 

Aside

turning thoughts inside out

TURNING THOUGHTS INSIDE OUT

Notes by HANNAH KIRBY from San Francisco


the context of words is language and language is scary-scopic. google “time famine” to see why i’ve headed this direction.*

with pen & paper
with key + finger

its like i know there’s someone else asking the deeper question. but maybe they only thought of it after i thought the thought. i think we need to be turning our thoughts inside out. dividing the banal with the contemplative equals what?

ordinary life event**
beauty & understanding of the world**

can responsibility be a creative output?
probably not.

*i spend most of my time helping other people.
**words by a. ruppersberg

HANNAH KIRBY, having been divided, (bw), 2014

HANNAH KIRBY, having been divided, (bw), 2014

HANNAH KIRBY, the_underscore, 2014

HANNAH KIRBY, the_underscore, 2014