A stands for Art

Do you recognize the latest sex goddess? Clue: she is 19 years old. Clue: she is the highest-grossing female actress of the decade. Clue: she lists fly fishing amongst her hobbies. Red herring: she is a natural blonde. Clue: she was only 9 years old when cast for her first leading movie role. Clue: she starred in Ballet Shoes, premiered on BBC One on 26 December 2007. Final clue: she plays Hermione Granger in the hugely successful Harry Potter films. Still can’t name her? Where have you been for the last decade? Pass your mouse pointer over the graphic.

A year ago I remarked the passing of Scottish artist Hannah Frank (CLICK). Note: the bugs I commented on in that post have been fixed. The website devoted to her memory has now launched the Hannah Frank Art Poetry Competition, closing date 31 March 2010. The poem must be no more than 40 lines in Scots or English and must be based on one of Hannah’s black and white drawings, such as the one shown: Flight. The competition is organised by poet William Bonar, on behalf of Hannah Frank’s family, and will be judged by David Kinloch. Prizes – £200 for the winning adult and £100 for the winning 18 or under – will be presented on Hannah’s birthday 23 August 2010. Entry costs £3.00 per poem for adults and is free for 18 and unders. Scottish schools are also invited to take part. Click the title link for a gallery of Hannah’s art.

Ahhh! Gross! An invasion of garden gnomes! (Looks again.) No, they’re Santa Clauses, almost as bad, 100 of them. Indian sand artist Sudarshan Patnaik inflicted these ghastly sculptures on a beach in the tourist town of Puri, assisted by 20 students from the Golden Institute of Sand Art, which he set up. His message is green. He wants to save the planet from global warming. Really? Then stop attracting tourists to your beaches, old fruit. Tell ‘em to get on their bikes and peddle off to their local park for their holiday fun.

To see the following video you should enlarge it (double-click once playing).

The above is a compilation of works by the Swiss artist Zimoun.

1. Funny, one keeps telling oneself, enough of the minimal already, somehow feeling that less is a bore should be embraced, and the outrageously overflowing art of the recent years – appreciated and encouraged. And then, something like this appears, and it’s irresistible. We’ve seen things from this universe before, also on this blog, and yet, the simplicity, yes, the damn purity takes over again.

2. I had a chance, recently, to visit several large factories. There were wonders there that could probably match most of the things on this video. Yet there was one thing they couldn’t do: be useless. It’s the sheer uselessness of it that gives it the power. We are not attached to anything but the thing. Art as the thing-that-cannot-be-used? Not necessarily, not in some purist sense. Great industrial design is to be cherished. And yet, there is a level of insanity here, of out-of-this-world-ness, that takes us to an exotic land, allowing for the silliest and most delicious connections to be made.

3. Luxury requires waste. A truly luxurious lifestyle is one where perfectly good things get wasted, as if to outplay their natural use and dying away. The true master of luxury seems to be saying her opulence is so great, the very perseverence of things is no match – they lose their original function and only exist to the extent they are participating in this out-of-this-world-ness of luxury.
You know what I’m aiming at? Here’s the hypothesis:

4. This, this minimalist joyful pleasure-making, is the true luxury. Not the apparent richness of the new complexities. In the world of useless purity, everything only serves the joy of simple aesthetic pleasure. More complex works are not quite like that – they have an inner game to play. The elements enter a dialogue, start relations and societies, with their conflicts and functions and disruptions. Here, there is only the ping of a shot of pleasure. This engine moves nothing. It is here to make me smile (or bring inspiration, or scare) – and I turn it off as soon as I have. And don’t be mistaken – if I had one of those and got bored with and could afford it, it would go to waste.

4a. Ah, you might say, but the truly great art is one we don’t get bored with. Possibly. Yet how often do we actually go back to contemplate (not just think about or admire or analyze) a work of contemporary “minimalist” art? Does it mean it’s because it’s not that great? What if it’s about something else? What if it is an element of luxury, a game we play with ourselves, to feel the exquisite taste of the sophisticated dish, and then to ditch it as soon as we’re fed up? It wouldn’t be a question of bluff, of fakeness, of shallowness. It would be a question of use. Of why we crave it, this new. Of how we make it useful after all.

David Foldvari, Wrestler

(via)

More artistry in the special effects department: a two-part remake of John Wyndham’s 1951 classic science-fiction novel The Day of the Triffids hits BBC One this evening at 9pm (CLICK). The concluding episode is at the same time tomorrow. What, you might well ask, is Eddie Izzard doing with a gun? I thought he was a stand-up comic. Oh well, this new BBC version can’t be worse than the pig’s ear director Steve Sekely made of the 1962 movie, with imported US star Howard Keel for a dash of box office appeal. I could never fathom why all those triffids wanted to invade a lighthouse! I suspect the film’s low budget required it. The BBC trailer for today’s fleshy feast of monstrous carnivorous plants promises higher production values. We’ll see. For all you ever wanted to know about triffids, but were afraid to ask, click the title link.

A voice from the ether tells me that make-up artists aren’t responsible for the transformation of Sigourney Weaver in James Cameron’s fantasy movie Avatar (next post down). The actors wore skull caps bearing miniature cameras which captured 95% of their facial expressions and eye movements, digitized to create their avatars as computer images (title link). The example here shows Sam Worthington as Jake Sully’s avatar. He plays a crippled US marine who inhabits an avatar to allow him to mix with the indigenous population of Pandora, a moon with lush forests and deposits of a mineral lusted after by greedy humans. Of course he falls in love with the most gorgeous blue alien you’ve ever seen, played by the equally gorgeous Zoe Saldana. She’s a female warrior; we must keep US feminists happy. Yes, folks, the plot is Yankee codswallop: Universal Soldier meets Bambi. However, the theme – avaricious humans destroying ecosystems – is a commendable and timely warning. The visuals are literally out of this world. Avatar is the movie of the decade. CLICK to view the official (short) trailer on YouTube. It isn’t too hard to imagine how breathtaking these images will be when viewed in 3-D.

I’ve already mentioned the groundbreaking computer aided graphics for James Cameron’s Avater as a modern form of art (CLICK). Now consider a group of artists who usually get neglected by the media when the Oscars are handed out: make-up artists. Their work may not “sell” movies the way star names and directors do, but it is vital if the actors are to look as they should for their roles. I think it’s a safe bet that the principal make-up artist for Avatar will be in the running for an Oscar next year. Recognize this actress with the huge golden eyes? Sigourney Weaver. What a transformation!

Following the sudden and untimely death of actress Brittany Murphy at the age of 32, US rental chain Redbox began withdrawing promotional artwork for her latest video release: Deadline (title link). In case you’re wondering why Redbox saw fit to withdraw this material, here’s one of the posters for Deadline. It shows the actress playing dead in a bath. Apparently in real life she died in her own bath (title link). It’s a very creepy coincidence and Redbox did well to have the artwork withdrawn. Brittany was laid to rest on Christmas eve at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in the Hollywood Hills (CLICK).

Coxsoft Art News is four years old today. In that time I’ve published 3,350 posts, had more than a quarter of a million hits, slanged off a lot of pretentious twits and, judging by your comments, have pleased more people than I’ve annoyed. I’m still waiting to be head-hunted by The Times. (Get yer finger out, Ed.) The new year may bring some changes. I’m thinking of renaming my blog, but that requires a modicum of work. Its XML code needs tidying and a few bits and bobs may be added or removed here or there. Of this you can be sure, I.C. will remain as discerning, as irreverent and as erudite as ever.

BBC News likes to post a gallery of photos showing Christmas celebrations around the world, as though humanity is just one big happy Christian family despite embracing hundreds of equally whacky religions and sects. The graphic above is a cropped version from this year’s gallery. You might well ask: What does a scowling Bangladeshi fairy having her cheek painted with Santa Claus have to do with that birthday the BBC thinks we’re all celebrating? Don’t ask me. I’m merely an interested observer of the human fruitcake. Ask Auntie.