Category Archives: studio visit

Speeding up to slow

Just last week I read an article about how over-used the word ‘busy’ has become to describe how we are to anyone who might ask. Should you be the type of person to use it frequently, it simply points to the fact you are not managing your time correctly. Whilst there is always room for improvement I always think a better question might be “are you making time to consider how you feel?” The reality is, as we know, every one is in such a constant state of rushing and with attention spans akin to a bolt of lightening, that we rarely stop to consider anything. We just ‘do’, constantly seeking the next experience.

“do-its” by Rose Finn-Kelcey. Electronic LED display sign with green fast scrolling two word phrases in green 2002. Owned by The Collective.

The Slow Art movement is not new and always strikes me as rather counter-intuitive to what the big museums and art galleries actually desire in numbers. If everyone slowed down to absorb more of each art work for a lengthened period of time how would queues be managed? How would art institutions raise the funds they need through entrance fees (where applicable) as fewer people might be admitted per day? Having spent an hour queueing to get in to the Georges Pompidou Centre in Paris recently just to get through security, followed by a further queue to get a ticket, and then another to leave your bag, the very idea of ‘slow appreciation’ was hampered by the fact we had no time left to make the most of the great art works in front of us. It felt like a visitor production line and with little seating it was not conducive to slow appreciation. In fact the whole experience made me want to speed through the gallery rooms and make a rapid escape from the fifth floor.

But one experience should not put a shadow on other visits where standing in front of an artwork and observing the brush strokes and lines that make up the work set your heart racing in appreciation. Or watching attentive groups of visitors being guided round by experts who help to share all the things you might have missed. Is it a ‘style of looking‘ reserved for the more elite that requires the ability to listen and to pay attention to the minutia (or the obvious) of what is being pointed out?

Or is “Slow Art” simply ‘a way of describing the modern experience of art itself. ….. which rewards lingering, “slow” attention and thought.’

In 2001 a study by two scientists in empirical aesthetics examined visitors to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, measuring time spent by 150 visitors looking at seven art works. The mean time recorded was 27.2 seconds per art work. In all likelihood this has not changed very much or even decreased, with Arden Reed quoting a much lower figure for US museum-goers in his more recent book.

But does it matter to the average museum-goer if what they get from those 27.2 seconds (or less) is the reward they seek? If it creates a moment in time where visual gratification combines with evoking the right emotion and understanding for the viewer, surely it doesn’t matter to the non-expert how long they spend in front of each art work? However, offering the opportunity to see it through the lens of an expert should always be a consideration should you wish to learn and understand with a more critical and knowledgable eye.  Do people visit galleries to receive visual pleasure or heightened appreciation for a world seen so differently to their own?.  Or do they visit art galleries to gain knowledge and think differently?

In his book ‘Slow Art‘ Arden Reed argues that 250 years ago there was no slow art – because ‘life was just slow in general’ whilst in today’s modern experience “Slow Art can give us the kind of consolation that everyone is looking for.” The artworks “need us to bring them to life with our attention…” or rather our slow appreciation.

But if we suppose that today’s art experience might be based more on instant gratification and a quest for continuous new experiences, perhaps the 27.2 seconds is sufficient and what’s required is more art and more innovative experiences with art? Does it need to be slow to appreciate it?  It certainly needs to be slow-er to learn more about the artist and understand the detail and circumstance.

The concept of Slow Art has been an unacknowledged concept for The Collective ever since it was first set up. But not in the sense of an hour spent per art work in a gallery, but in six months spent living with an art work.  Isn’t this slow art in the extreme

It is not the first time I have mentioned the appreciation that comes with living with art.  You see it in morning light.  You see it at night, or when a visitor asks you about it on a weekend afternoon.  You see it through a range of different emotions, through the peaks and troughs of your daily life and through the different seasons. You may have participated in its purchase, or selected it during an exchange. You may have visited the artist’s studio and understood a wealth of knowledge that brings a fresh perspective.  You may have disliked it, but found it grew on you with time.  Either way you get to immerse yourself in a way that makes the current concept of ‘slow art’ seem more akin to a flash in the pan.  And just when the works have started to become invisible through familiarity, we have an exchange that sees a whole new landscape spread across our homes. Is this the Collective way of endorsing Reed’s words when he says “artworks need us to bring them to life with our attention…. But it is also good for the observer”.  In our case a Collective good.  

If the impact of ‘slow art’ is cumulative, as Reed suggests, living with art can only help teach us more about ‘how to look‘ and ‘how to be generous with other objects’ . Ultimately it will help teach us how to enjoy individual works more fully and satisfy what we are really seeking by looking at art in the first place. Pleasure, insight and knowledge.

  Thanks 

Tales of unexpected moments

It all seemed to happen in the last week of May .  A visit to the opening of an exhibition in a small gallery in Hoxton, east London and a studio visit to an artist based in south London.  Both quite different, both centred around sculpture, and both memorable for different reasons.
Bx5gLxxCEAA6x6dIf you’ve ever wondered why gallery assistants accost you, with degrees of politeness or hostility, when they spot you carrying bags whilst visiting an exhibition – the first unexpected moment will almost certainly answer that question for you once and for all.     The gallery space in east London that we visited occupied a small basement floor beautifully laid out for the current exhibition showing a sculptor who worked in mixed mediums.  It was a first solo show and the combination of unusual found objects separated from their original purpose or identity and reconfigured with the artists own “additions” – often made from a different medium – was both intriguing and stimulating.  Each sculpture told a mixed story of old and new recreated to present a quite different concept from the objects themselves.

But then it happened.  Amidst the murmur of conversations and people, small movements and manoeuvring as the space filled up with visitors, the air was punctured with a heavy sound of smashing glass on the concrete floor.  The gallery was silenced in an instant.  We didn’t need to turn to guess what had happened – it was written all over the faces of those looking in the direction of the noise – “thank god it wasn’t me!”.    An accidental swing of a shoulder bag had unseated one of the sculptures and brought about its noisy end. A corporeal unwinding. As I was leaving the exhibition I heard a visitor talking to the artist “You must have been so angry?” , “no, I wasn’t angry , not everything works out”.  An unanticipated and forgiving moment.

A studio visit is always unexpected in terms of what you’ll find- and is probably one of the

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ASC studios

most rewarding aspects of what we do as a Collective.  A rare opportunity, not just to view art but to get beneath it to the creator and learn more about how, why and what motivates them to make the art they do. – and in the space they do it!  So it was we went to see artist Tom Dale at his studio in south London.  All six households turned up for the occasion.

Tom calls himself a Sculptor, although video and digital photography feature in his collection in addition to the objects. There doesn’t seem to be a restriction in what materials he favours and uses, or what size they are as long as it “creates a reaction”.”What I’m

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Tom Dale in his studio in south London

interested in is creating an immediate and visceral response so that you ask yourself – why do I feel like this?”   Tom likes to steer away from over intellectual explanations and prefers that you ask questions – both of him and his works – mainly because his art “begins with an idea I have to solve – a question – and through the making of the work I try to answer that question”.  The result may be that it encourages you to ask more questions

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Ball with wheel by Tom Dale

as the viewer.  Tom’s openness to his approach is refreshing and his down to earth way of speaking engaged us all as he went through his works past and present (and not all of them in his studio).  In 2005 he wanted to see if he could improve on the idea of something that was essentially  a “perfect “sphere and added a castor wheel from a chair.  In so doing he made the ball useless – trapped in immobility.  “it might seem banal” says Tom”but there was a specific thought behind it”.

With castor wheels in mind there was one work on the wall of his studio that had already grabbed our “Collective” attention.  Called “witness” it consisted of a small off-white blanket with four castor wheels attached.

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“Witness” by Tom Dale

“Only in the moment of being hung does it look like a figure – on the floor it would collapse without

substance” says Tom. Just an ordinary blanket – with wheels. Can that ever be ordinary, I wondered? We all had different interpretations from quite dark thoughts of faceless and threatening figures to totally playful images of animated  sheep !  “I like the idea of objects having a life of their own” – and this one certainly did.

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Work by Tom Dale

Copper pipes and taps giving testimony to a networked and connected world (that could nevertheless be switched off) , grey painted Russian dolls representing interconnected world currencies (that could disappear inside each other) and redundant coin-covered motorbike petrol tank covers provided a remarkable afternoon of unforeseen highlights .

“I make lots of work – but not loads.  Ideas take time and often have a slow release”.   Just as living with art allows us a slow release of acknowledgement and unexpected moments of reflection and pleasure over time.

Thanks Tom Dale.