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From Shakespeare to The Smiths, Wittgenstein to Warhol

2009_ Pop Life: ART IN A MATERIAL WORLD " The tales are legion, the headlines ubiquitous: what a pageant of greed, what an allegory of supply, demand, ingenuity, inflation, excess. The only problem is how to convey it in objects. "

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Galileo's Universe
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" JEFF KOON N PIGS "

REF:>http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign

Laura Cumming
The Observer, Sunday 4 October 2009
Article history

Pop Life is the most cunning show imaginable. I am tempted to call it artful. On the one hand it concerns itself with fame, fortune and the links between them from Warhol to Hirst, centring on artists who have used the mass media to create their own brand and persona. On the other, it is destined to be a surefire winner for Tate Modern, not to mention all the many collectors, artists and dealers involved, spinning money-minded art smoothly back into money under cover of historical scholarship.

Pop Life deserves to be a hit, though, because it tries so hard to get the genie back into the bottle – to distil, as far as possible, a whole chapter of modern times in which a particular kind of art turned itself into pure commodity.

So this is Andy Warhol offering two portraits for the price of one; and selling his own face to Vidal Sassoon for ads and his reputation to Drexel Burnham Lambert. It is Jeff Koons turning his most famous steel sculpture – of a balloon – back into real balloon, 50ft high and leasing it for PR purposes to Macy's.

It is Takashi Murakami spreading his super-flat pop art all across the globe from art fairs and glossy magazines to actual shops. And not just art shops but branches of Louis Vuitton – where his bright logos sell the exorbitant handbags – and Tokyo 7 Elevens, where customers get a tiny plastic Murakami figure with their gum.

It is (at a stretch) Sarah Lucas and Tracey Emin setting up shop in the East End and selling crappy T-shirts. At an even greater stretch, it is Andrea Fraser selling her body for one night to a collector for $20,000 in order that they may conjugate "into an artwork".

It is most certainly the gavel coming down on a Jeff Koons's love heart for approximately 80m times the price of similar gewgaws at Claire's Accessories, and Damien Hirst taking £112m at last year's Sotheby's auction. The tales are legion, the headlines ubiquitous: what a pageant of greed, what an allegory of supply, demand, ingenuity, inflation, excess. The only problem is how to convey it in objects.

The first room at Tate Modern is a knock-out: Koons's Rabbit (1986), that gleaming cast of an inflatable bunny that turns a balloon into a voodoo doll, horrifying yet inanely reflective; Andy Warhol's terrific late self-portrait, a skull in a scarlet fright-wig bowing out into the darkness; Murakami's appalling monument of a manga fantasy woman, teensy waist, colossal breasts spouting skipping ropes of milk as she sweetly smiles: the frightening potency of graphics emerging in three dimensions.

Each of these artists has a subsequent gallery – or three, in the case of Warhol, who surely deserves the space as patron saint of almost everything that follows.

The curators have aimed for period authenticity by reconstructing some eventful shows. Keith Haring's Pop Shop, with its trademark wall drawings and its chiming till, has been recreated complete with fully operational shop. Nothing like the zip and register of the graphics, incidentally: insistently recognisable and undimmed by the years through the commercial ruse of timeless black and white.

Less arduous, at least in practical terms, is the exact facsimile of Richard Prince's Spiritual America – open when I saw Pop Life, temporarily closed by police on grounds of obscenity. Spiritual America involved the rephotographing of Garry Gross's notorious photograph for Playboy Press of a 10-year-old Brooke Shields wearing nothing but mascara. Prince gave it an ornamental frame, low lighting and rich red walls – these are the 'quotation marks' in which he supposedly offers his state of the nation address.

Even now, art historians insist upon this work as social critique: showing America back to America. I don't see how they can tell. The work is silent – you might say dumb – on the subject of Gross's unconscionable photograph. And not the least revelation of last year's Serpentine retrospective was Prince's lifelong interest in the low, the filthy and corrupted. Still, he fits the bill as maker of the highest-priced photographs in the world.

Jeff Koons's 1989 Made in Heaven show – soaringly, eye-poppingly gross – hasn't been recreated in quite a while. That may have something to do with the anal sex, or the gigantically impractical sculpture of Koons straddling the porn star Ilona Staller on a rock; or perhaps it has something to do with the bitter end of their marriage.

That show – from the colourful billboard for a non-existent movie starring the lovers, to the unambiguous Ilana's Asshole – was rejected by the art world, which felt Koons had taken exploitation too far. But it is instructive to read the reviews, which fastidiously avoid the noticeably hardcore porn.

Perhaps the art of those bad aesthetic times was prophylactically sealed against reality. Better to talk about provocation, institutional critique, the raising of consciousness, the way in which Koons always referred to high art – bling, but with added rococo – than the content. For what is the content, if not a poke in the eye?

Bright yet dark, shrewd yet vacuous: Koons's art remains poised in equal tension. And when you get to Damien Hirst's gallery full of gold calves in formaldehyde, gold spot paintings, gold vitrines dazzling with diamonds, it is no longer so obvious to whom he owes the greater debt: the production line of Koons or Warhol?

The British galleries of Pop Life give Tate Modern its first chance to show Hirst, Emin, Lucas, Gavin Turk et al as international history, which has the effect of deactivating their art. What were slick, rude, crude, epigrammatic, hilarious or wilfully dumb now look like the artefacts of air-conditioned archives.

Not everyone will lament this, of course, but the Americans do generally get a better presentation. Warhol's silkscreened gemstones are shown in ultra-violet light, Haring has a great rap soundtrack, Koons gets all the floodlight he could want. The show is buzzy, theatrical, densely jammed and much more of a blast than expected.

It is of course composed of fast art: nothing to detain you for long, though plenty to prime the post-show conversation. How quickly repetition set in as modus operandi: the series, the reiteration, the flogged horse, the running gag, the market-servicing multiple and edition. How often sex sold art, how often artists sold their looks, how indivisible art frequently seemed from prostitution, promotion and pornography.

And how empty the provocations often were – and still are. The young Polish artist Piotr Uklanski has a wall of faces titled The Nazis, a bumper compendium of film stars in SS costume that has apparently caused controversy. Hollywood has bad faith, Clint Eastwood can't pull off the look compared to Klaus Kinski, Nazi uniform is chic? Go read your Susan Sontag.

Now I don't know if this is Uklanski's point. Actually thinking about these works is not what they seem to demand. Some look pretty simple-minded now – Ashley Bickerton's famed self-portrait in corporate logos, everything by Pruitt Early – but even those that don't often come across as tendentiously crass. One-liners with no after-effect, they are like ineffectual fireworks.

Have these times come to an end? The show certainly has a retrograde feel: Drexel and its junk bonds long gone, Warhol and Haring dead, many historic gambits – the artist as adman or celebrity – now repeated as farce. And it is hard to take latest variations seriously as anything much more than product placement by powerful dealers.

And that is what is missing from this show – inevitably, necessarily – the entire troupe of impresarios, gallerists, dealers, and consultants who join the dots between Warhol and the hedge-fund collector. The people, in short, who make or sustain the market for the art and who are never likely to fade out.

This story is not told here, nor does it yet have an end. But anyone who wants to know how this strain of art has remained strong for so long should buy the exhibition catalogue. There, among the solemn curatorial essays, are glimpses of the connections and transactions that are so mutually beneficial – everyone from the blue-chip collectors to the galleries who control what can be shown and the billionaire backers – without whom this show might not exist, nor, quite possibly, much of the art.

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Galileo's Universe
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Andy Warhol - Skull

REF:>http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-

Pop Life: Art in a Material World, Tate Modern, London
Truly, madly deeply shallow

Reviewed by Michael Glover
Wednesday, 30 September 2009

This is a deeply superficial show, full of glitz and gloss, blingy as Moscow, neon-besmattered as the buildings of central Tokyo, noisy as a hypermarket. Everywhere you go there's racket of one kind or another – rap in the Keith Haring room, Japanese pop in Murakami's gallery – and a sense of crowd and bustle. At its centre stands the figure of Andy Warhol, the dull, hyper-energetic narcissist who proclaimed that art needed to get out into the world and amongst the people. Perhaps Warhol had never noticed that art had been in public spaces, out among the people, for centuries. No, Warhol was really about the self-advancement of Warhol, by every possible means he could contrive. The curators of this show argue that it was Warhol who brought art and commerce together – perhaps Warhol thought no one had ever paid for a painting before 1960 – and several galleries at the beginning of the show give us a tour of his ever-crazier antics as he aged: more and more images of himself (they cover the walls of one gallery, top to bottom, like wallpaper); chasing stars almost as big as himself ever more frenetically. Making mindless pronouncements on TV. There is much, always too much, Warhol art here, but equally important to the show's curators, there are innumerable magazines and newspapers which demonstrate how he managed to persuade the media to hang upon his every move.

And after Warhol? This show exists to document what happened to some artists – not all, thank goodness – after his death. How artists learnt from him to promote themselves as brands; to manipulate the media; to be ever busier at the extremely serious business of making huge amounts of money.

One of them, Elaine Sturtevant, even occupied herself re-painting Warhol's own images, as if his own hadn't been tedious enough. How sad.

Much of this show consists of reconstructions, or partial reconstructions, of room-size installations. Keith Haring's "Pop Shop" is a remake of a New York art space that he created in 1986. The walls are covered with Haring's squirmy, calligraphy-like black graffiti. A cheerful neon sign winks at us, and Haring T-shirts are suspended around us on hangers. A miserable-looking man sits at a booth cut into the gallery's wall, waiting for us to buy one; or perhaps we'd prefer a little Haring medal for our lapel.

Jeff Koons's room – one of several extremely raunchy interludes – consists of a giant, gross, plastic sculpture of Koons humping La Cicciolina, his sometime porn bride. Various photographic blows-ups around the walls show him licking and lapping at her where it counts.

Next up are the YBAs, of course, who knew a fair bit about self-promotion and harnessing the media to their own ends. Here is a strew of scruffy items from Sarah and Tracey's "Shop" in Bethnal Green – painted cardboard signs, for example. This experiment in commerce lasted just six months.

Sooner or later, of course, we were bound to come across at least a few bits and pieces from "Beautiful Inside my Head Forever", Damien Hirst's big sale-room spectacle of 2008, where he was said to have made in excess of £100m over two days of feverish buying – and just at that very moment when Lehman Brothers was keeling over. A few of the pieces from that show are on display here: a calf in formaldehyde with gorgeous gold hooves; gem-studded butterflies; whole rows of diamonds on shelves. It's just like a discreet corner of Swarovski's, isn't it, Natasha darling?

At show's end we are treated to an entire gallery in celebration of Japan's king of pop commerce, Takashi Murakami. More dancing. More singing. More brash, unadulterated, in-your-face pop trash.

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Galileo's Universe
Galileo's Universe
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TAKASHI MURAKAMI ... INOCHI 2004

REF> english.kaikaikiki.co.

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Galileo's Universe
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REF: Damien Hirst, 2008: Untitled image from on-line auction ‘Beautiful Inside My Head Forever’

REF;>http://images.google.com/

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2009
REF:.artsandconsciousness.blogspot.com

An EXCERPT from : Post-Modernism, Economic Collapse and the Search for Value in Art

" ...... Everything was questioned and all foundations of meaning were challenged. Ironic self-deprecation replaced idealism and revolutionary zeal as the central theme of contemporary art. Breaking the rules became a central requirement for ‘good’ art. But as all the old rules of art were broken into smithereens, the avant-garde was forced to increasingly esoteric and obscure philosophical assertions in order to justify its own existence. These obscure sources of artistic content became increasingly inaccessible to the public but concomitantly attractive to wealthy collectors and art world insiders who desired membership in ‘the cultural elite’. By the late 20th Century, the art world had fully embraced art that asserted the premise that meaninglessness and absurdity were the only appropriate responses to a culture which had lost all connection to its own sources of meaning and authenticity . 'Soup 1', Andy Warhol 1968

Damien Hirst, a British artist in his mid-40’s recently held an on-line auction of a wide variety of his own artworks that fetched a record smashing $200 million. The auction was intended as an artwork in itself. Even more significant than this extraordinarily high price, is Hirst’s assertion that the value of an artwork is an integral aspect of its artistic content, since this signifies the work’s relevance to the art world. Hence, collectors and art dealers become intentional collaborators in the artist’s work. The inflation rate for the art world’s ‘super-stars’ had become astronomical by the early part of the 21st Century, with even relatively obscure artists who were in favor selling artworks for over a million dollars. Collectors and dealers like the infamous Larry Gagosian began to view themselves as collaborators and participants in conceptual artwork which was explicitly about absurdly inlflated prices mediocre artworks and the manipulation and control of a cynical and bored art-collecting 'elite'. By the early 21st century, the art world had come to embody all that was worst about late capitalism - greed, arrogance, manipulation and excess in all things.

The underlying issue seems to be a larger questioning of the nature of ‘value’ itself. The express intent of artists like Hirst, Jeff Koons, Lisa Yukusavge and Chris Ofili is precisely this. Why would Ofili’s elephant dung paintings be deemed to be valued in the millions? The cynical answer is clearly that wealth and power has believed that it has the ability to arbitrarily assign value to valueless-ness. It is, perhaps, a debatable point but current economic events suggest that this presumption may have been disproven. The reasons for the trend towards absurd over-valuation of art seem to be closely linked to the reasons for the recent international financial calamity that has in recent months sent stock prices plunging and un-employment rates through the roof. The art world’s over-reliance on financial capital as a signifier of meaning, paralleled the attitudes and actions of world financial markets in their tendency to grossly over-value inherently worthless investments. The world of finance, like the art world, fell into the catastrophic belief that any investment is a good one if enough capital is thrown at it. In both cases, money was invested in demonstrably unsound products – think, Damien Hirst = sub-prime mortgages.

One of post-modernism’s main themes is the de-construction of ‘meaning’ (and therefore value) as an artifact of unreliable ‘structures’ such as language, symbols or ritual. The basic thread of Post-Modernist thinking is something like this: If meaning is based on culture, and culture is based on language, and language is intrinsically unreliable and always controlled and manipulated by a greedy and corrupt power structures, then culture, meaning and value all become illusions – infinitely manipulable artifacts of the power structure’s on-going demand for control. The art world’s ceaseless desire for a new and marketable concept requires new art-stars in increasingly spectacular settings made more conspicuous by astronomical prices paid for their work in order to assure the power structure that it still has control – that money is everything after all!

Some cotemporary artists are now examining a new kind of value – value that is related to interconnectedness, happiness, wisdom and health. This is the central; theme of numerous writings about the ‘end of art’ from relatively recent art world apostates such as Donald Kuspit, Suzi Gablik, Lynn Gamwell and Arthur Danto. As the world’s economic crisis undermines the foundations of the ‘old’ power structure, we can look to new directions in art as a pathway to expanded cultural consciousness and a return to value and abundance based on new and more positive cultural assumptions like inter-connectedness and sustainability.

The current situation in the art world, the economic world and the world political scene seems to be one of profound change – the long hoped-for ‘paradigm shift’. We may have seen it ushered in by the presidential inauguration on January 20th. When the recovery from the current crisis occurs, it seems possible that the world will re-discover the value of art as an essential part of culture – not as a coveted object but as living and breathing part of everyday life. The economic and political worlds seem to have little choice but to re-construct their structures based on a more sustainable and longer-term vision that includes human well-being and environmental awareness as key tenets for the future. In a sense not only America but the whole world voted for these changes in the symbolic form of the new American President. The emergent cultural vision seeks an integration of art, wellness and sustainability that is counter to former assumptions about value and power. In short, the power structure seems to be changing. The 20th Century ‘s emphasis on religion, nationalism, militarism and material wealth are yielding quickly to new cultural imperatives – the environment, social and economic inter-dependence, human rights and the individual search for meaning and happiness outside of culturally proscribed institutions. The emergent vision seems to understand that real value is based on connection and embodiment rather than military strength and coercion. We are all at a unique historical moment – the moment that the ebb of modernist materialism is replaced by a new flood of broadened cultural and spiritual awareness – a new era of expanded consciousness. To refer to this new consciousness as ‘spiritual’ is perhaps too limiting. In Holistic Studies we use the term frequently, but we as a culture are on the brink of a wholesale return to something more all encompassing than ‘spirituality’ per se. Perhaps the world is discovering that spirit cannot be separated from the physical or emotional dimensions of existence of identity.

The current re-emergence of ‘spirituality’ in art is based on direct experience rather than religious ideology. The new art exemplified by artists such as Andy Goldsworthy Kiki Smith, and Bill Viola (all of whose artwork also sells for astronomical amounts) is connected to a direct experience of nature and embodiment – an intrinsic value which other artists of the current generation may admire but still reject as unexciting and sentimental. We must all choose for ourselves which is the more desirable motif in art. There is a lot to discover in the contemporary art world.

In Arts & Consciousness we are developing a new pedagogy – a way of teaching artists to discover meaning and connection through the creative process. By examining the ideas of modernism and post-modernism our students find their own new ideas and new ways of offering relevance and value to a culture starved for authenticity and humanity. We hope they will discover abundance as a natural consequence of finding relevance and value in their own artwork. The on-going exploration the nature of value and meaning is an important part of contemporary art. Often misunderstood as opportunism, the excesses of the contemporary art world have laid the groundwork for a new revolution in art and the re-discovery of a deeper and more enduring value for the entire culture. We have reason for celebration and hope in the face of adversity and can find beauty and wisdom in a myriad of new images and ideas that are re-shaping art and culture.

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