Jamming

This morning I saw the Women’s Arts Association had shared a BBC article about an “art stunt” in Manchester.
Further reading took me to the Manchester Evening News. Their interview with the artists was more enlightening: “The cashier only allowed us 24 jars” (Two bodies covered in jam, a camper battery, a power inverter, toaster and toast. 11 am busy street) won’t be their last performance.
Artists Riikka Enne and Sophia Moffa took to the city centre to present their latest ‘happening’ to the people of Manchester.
The reactions of the workers, shoppers, commuters and police officers who encountered the duo have all formed part of their artwork. In fact, even this article is part of the happening.

I’m impressed that naked people can eat toast and jam in a city centre without being molested. More impressed when considering Manchester has a bee as its symbol.
Is it Art? Did the artists bake the bread for the toast? Did they grow the fruit to make the jam? Does jam-making cut out the need for the cashier mentioned in their event title?
So many questions. The audience presumably enjoyed the happening, maybe they all went on to spend the rest of the day in a performance…
As an art student I made body prints from similar events, not in the street though. Does an art event need proof that it happened?
Read their tale of studio hunting, remember art needs space:
http://tapemodern.org/2018/08/14/evictions/

Virtual vandalism

A screenshot from early August 2018. I added this photo of a linocut to google maps as a visual celebration of misunderstandings. At the time, the gallery was showing “‘Dim ond geiriau ydi iaith’ (Language is only words)”, with the theme of word and image. My “No Need to Understand Everything” print sort of fits in with that idea, but wouldn’t have fitted into that exhibition.

This link has an interesting explanation of the poem quoted above: https://bywaryfiweng.wordpress.com/llyn-in-verse-myrddin-ap-dafydd-91013/

Sunshine and waves

This morning I was cutting little dots into the lino sea foam while listening to live radio coverage of the Thai cave rescue. News updates while printing said that some of the boys were out of the cave.

I was working in an attic room under an open skylight. The ink was weird in the heat, the paper kept blowing around in the breeze. I had intended to rub a bit of yellow ink into the centre of the sun, like an intaglio. Maybe next time.

Sigh…

Too many times over the last few decades. Here’s the usual pattern:

Somebody needs a poster design. It must have certain images and text. There is one typeface that must be used. You’re allowed to arrange these elements creatively. When it’s finished it must be submitted to somebody else for approval. Basically they only need relevant dates, times and venue added to some pictures.

They aren’t sure which dates, they’ll let you know soon. Somebody else asks in a group chat if the poster is ready yet. You say it only needs the date information then it’ll be finished.

Somebody asks when will the poster be finished. You remind them that you need the info to finish it. They say they’ll get back to you.

Somebody else’s husband has offered to help as you’re taking too long. You send them the artwork. They ask somebody to ask you to send them the artwork. You remind them that you’ve already sent it and it could have been completed if you’d had the dates to add. Somebody else asks for the artwork. Three times. She claims not to have received it but strangely the resulting poster has an identical layout to the one you made.

Somebody else gets lots of praise for the poster after her husband has added the dates and times.