The American Dream: Pop to the Present: prints by Helen Frankenthaler, Carroll Dunham, Ida Applebroog, Dotty Attie, Kiki Smith, Lee Lozano, Louise Bourgeois, Emma Amos and Kara Walker.
ISelf Collection: Bumped Bodies: Maria Bartuszovà, Huma Bhabha, Alexandra Bircken, Ruth Claxton, Berlinde De Bruyckere, Kati Horna, Sarah Lucas, Pippilotti Rist, Nicola Tyson and Cathy Wilkes
Killer Heels: shoe designers like Westwood and Hadid, and videos by Marilyn Minter, Leanie van der Vyver.
The London Open 2018: Rachel Ara, Gabriella Boyd, Hannah Brown, Rachael Champion, Ayan Farah, French & Mottershead, Céline Manz, Rachel Pimm, Renee So, Alexis Teplin, Elisabeth Tomlinson and Andrea Luka Zimmerman.
Performing for the Camera: photos by Hannah Wilke, Adrian Piper, Jemima Stehli, Carolee Schneemann, Dora Maurer, Sarah Lucas, Cindy Sherman, Francesca Woodman and Amalia Ulman.
Pre-Raphaelite Sisters: Effie Gray Millais, Christina Rossetti, Annie Miller, Elizabeth Siddal, Fanny Cornforth, Joanna Boyce Wells, Fanny Eaton, Georgiana Burne-Jones, Maria Zambaco, Jane Morris, Marie Spartali Stillman and Evelyn de Morgan.
Across the bridge over the Serpentine is the second Serpentine Gallery, the Serpentine Sackler Gallery converted from a 200-year-old former gunpowder store by legendary architect Zaha Hadid. For the time being the Serpentine Gallery seems to be retaining its link with the Sackler family who are under attack in the States for owning one of the largest manufacturers of addictive opioid drugs, although other British galleries are severing their links with the controversial family.
This knowledge adds a pleasing level of irony to the exhibition on show here, for the Serpentine Sackler Gallery is currently hosting a FREE exhibition of work by Patrick Staff (a young British artist born in 1987) which very much focuses on The Body. To quote the gallery introduction:
Through a varied and interdisciplinary body of work, Patrick Staff interrogates notion of discipline, dissent, labour and queer identity. Drawing on a wide range of sources, Staff examines the ways in which history, technology, capitalism and the law have fundamentally transformed the way we regard the body today, with a particular focus on gender, debility and biopolitics.
Oh, I thought, another contemporary artist kvetching about gender.
The corridors
The gunpowder store was originally at the core of the building, protected by double thickness walls, with a square walkway around the two inner, rectangular powder stores, each not much bigger than a long domestic living room.
By far the best thing in this installation is that the walkways around the central rooms have had their floors covered with a yellow metal and the fluorescent lights overhead given a yellowy-green tinge. The effect is to make you feel like you’re walking through the set of a science fiction film or maybe some kind of specialist industrial facility. This is pleasingly freaky.
Installation view of Patrick Staff: On Venus at the Serpentine Sackler Gallery
Note the two oil drums. Several of these are placed in each of the four corridors. If you look above the head of the woman in my photo you can see a latticework of very small-bore pipes suspended from the ceiling. This network carries on round all the corridors and where they pass over a drum, they have a tap which is set to allow a steady drip-drip of fluids down into each drum. What fluids?
A piping network suspended from the ceiling slowly drips a mixture of natural and synthetic acids into steel barrels, suggestive of sharing intimate fluids, or the trafficking of viruses or data.
It isn’t suggestive of bodily fluids, though, is it? It’s suggestive of offices or factories where the overhead air conditioning or other piping has sprung a leak and facilities management have put in a bucket or other container to catch the drips while they phone a plumber.
The Ian Huntley room
Remember Ian Huntley? He was convicted of murdering two 10-year-old girls in Soham, Cambridgeshire, in August 2002, hence the name the papers gave the case, The Soham Murders, and sentenced to a minimum term of 40 years in prison.
Anyway, in April 2018 the Daily Star newspaper reported that Huntley wanted to transition to a woman, wore a blonde wig in prison and insisted on being called Nicola. The story was picked up by other tabloids with a predictable hurricane of outrage from the highly-paid bigots who write for those papers.
Only nine months later did pressure from Huntley himself force the Star to retract the story and admit that it was entirely false in every detail. This led to a storm of comment from the other side, from queer activists, the Guardian and some left-wing politicians, lamenting the way the story was just one among a steady stream of stories designed to criticise, outlaw and ridicule trans people.
So Patrick Staff has taken front covers from the tabs who published the story, along with some of the later retractions and turned them into detailed etchings on metal, reminiscent to us old guys of the kind of heavy metal type that old-style newspapers were set in before the print revolution of the 1980.
1. I’m not that thrilled about being reminded of Huntley and his pointless stupid murder of two beautiful young girls and the awful, awful suffering their parents must have gone through, especially as Huntley lied his head off to the investigating police for two long weeks of one of the most intensive searches in British police history.
2. I am a little staggered that a grown man is telling us that tabloid newspapers make things up. I thought that was the most obvious thing about them, that the tabloids make things up and pander to the crudest prejudices and stereotypes, turn the complex world into a series of cartoons and clichés in order to cater to the basest instincts of their badly educated readers. I’ve known that for nearly fifty years.
If they are having a go at transgender people, now, they’re only the latest in a long line of groups who have been victimised and attacked on the basis of their gender (Page 3 girls) or race (blacks) or marital status (single mums) or disabilities (welfare scroungers) and so on. They are a poisonous blight on the country but they cannot be defeated because lots of people identify with their values and way of thinking. And that is because a lot of people in this country are pitifully badly educated, with not only the reading age but the immaturity and general stupidity of a nine-year-old.
Good luck changing that. Millions of left-wing intellectuals, politicians and activists have tried throughout my lifetime. That said, change can be achieved. The Sun in particular was virulently homophobic when I was a young man and nowadays reports on Elton John’s marriage to David Furnish or any other gay or lesbian marriage in more or less factual terms.
Social attitudes can be changed and liberalised. But I’m not sure how much impact an art installation like this can have.
On Venus
The work On Venus is in the other powder room and consists of a screen hanging from the ceiling on which two films are projected.
One consists of scratched, warped and overlapping footage of the most disgusting aspects of factory farming, showing the management of animal commodities such as urine, semen, skins and furs. I glimpsed a few shots of cows in cramped pens having their stretched udders brutally sucked dry by metal pumps so we can have the fresh milk to pour onto our organic porridge every morning.
If you didn’t realise that most livestock farming is disgusting and immoral, you are an idiot. That’s what vegetarians have been saying for fifty years or more, and countless books, articles and documentaries have revealed over and over again, with little practical effect.
The second film is a poem describing life on the planet Venus, conceived as:
“a state of non-life or near-death, a queer state of being that is volatile and in constant metamorphosis, infused with the violence of pressure and heat, destructive winds and the disorienting lapse of day into night.”
Conclusion
These are big issues he’s taking on. After years and years of political engagement I have reached a stage of exhaustion and complete detachment. Maybe Trump will be re-elected, maybe he won’t. Maybe Boris’s crew will make a go of Brexit, maybe they won’t. So many things have happened during my life, that I have realised a kind of informed, observant detachment is the best way to preserve your sanity.
Otherwise you end up like my left-wing friends and all the columnists and commentators in the Guardian, Independent, London Review of Books, New York Review of Books, New Statesman, and all the curators of contemporary art, who ever since the Brexit referendum, then the election, of Trump have lived in a state of permanent outrage and anger.
– I support the transgender movement, which has come out of nowhere in the past few years but does appear to be a genuine thing – not least because several of my daughter’s friends, and several of my middle-aged friends’ young adult children, wish to change gender. Fine.
– I support vegetarianism and would support any attempts to make farming less disgusting and less destructive of the environment.
– I’d sort of support banning all the tabloid media and their vicious, immoral, muck-raking, phone-hacking journalism – although that is never going to happen.
But Staff is clearly going beyond these specific topical issues, to ask bigger questions, or make interesting connections, or prompt more lateral thoughts – thoughts which you can sense but are just out of reach of the conscious mind, or the way we usually think about the world.
Something to do with what moral judgments are acceptable and unacceptable. Something to do with the power the tabloids exercise in defining reality for their audiences. But these are just sub-sets of the bigger question of how we define what is human and what is not, and apply treatments which are obviously inhumane and degrading to pretty much every other life form but ourselves – and even to ourselves as well.
How we long for an alien civilisation to come down from the stars and teach us how to live properly and run our societies like decent people. Quite clearly, we’re incapable of doing so ourselves.
Staff may be pushing towards some kind of change of attitudes and culture – but along with John Gray, I’ve come to believe that human nature doesn’t change. Cultural attitudes may, in some places, and for a while, be rerouted and redrawn – but the fundamental attributes of human nature don’t change.
Liberals castigate Trump and Johnson for their alleged racism or misogyny (defined as their supposed hatred of BAME people or women) but you only have to dip a little into left-wing print or social media to find equal or greater levels of anger vented against all conservatives or all republicans or all men or all white people.
Like Gray, I think a kind of informed detachment is the only practical attitude to exercise in our times, the only way to prevent yourself from being drawn into the steaming cesspit of anger which almost all political and public discourse seems to be becoming.
Patrick Staff talks about his Serpentine show
What I learned from Staff’s own introduction was a different take from actually visiting it.
I like his point that everyone lives as though everything is alright with the world when, in fact, it really isn’t. Seen from this perspective the topics he’s chosen here are just some of the things which have upset him or which he thinks lift the veil on our respectable passivity and reveal the intertwined horrors beneath.
Seen in this way, the four elements of the exhibition – factory corridor with leaking fluids, the tabloid lies about Ian Huntley which are also smears on trans people, factory farming, and the queer poem about Venus – become more like personal symbols than political statements – moments of horrified insight, from which he has constructed a personal mythology.
I find this a much more fruitful way of thinking about the installation, because it is the way many poets work, creating a network of everyday imagery which they manage to imbue with supercharged imaginative energy, and mould into a personal mythology.
The question then becomes why didn’t he or the curators explain this a bit more clearly on the one and only wall label by the front door which introduces the show and which was full of the usual curator boilerplate about ‘bodies’ and ‘gender’ and made Staff sound just like every other modern artist – when I had already begun to feel – and this video crystallises – the ways in which he’s very much not like everyone else, in which he’s distinctive and interesting.
Having thought my way all around the issues and ideas and surrendered to the sensual impact of the installation, I ended up liking it much more than my initial negative impressions.
On an autumn trip to New York, my son wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, after which we found ourselves exploring Brooklyn Heights (quaint, polluted), and then realised it was only a short metro ride to the Brooklyn Museum.
Here there was a lot of interesting stuff in the permanent collection, early colonial art, as well as a show of contemporary work by Brooklyn-based artists. But it was all put in the shade by the surprisingly informative and fabulously entertaining exhibition about the ‘art of the high-heeled shoe’.
Prada. Wedge Sandal in Rosso, Bianco, and Nero Leather, Spring/Summer 2012. Courtesy of Prada USA Corp. Photo: Jay Zukerkorn
The full title is Killer Heels: The Art of the High-Heeled Shoe and it showcases a surprising amount you can do with such a humble implement as the shoe, an amazing amount. It showcases over 160 examples, from around the world, including some rare and precious historical artifacts.
Italian. Chopine, 1550-1650. Silk, metal. Brooklyn Museum Costume Collection at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of the Brooklyn Museum, 2009; Gift of Herman Delman, 1955. Brooklyn Museum photograph, Mellon Costume Documentation Project, Lea Ingold and Lolly Koon, photographers
But the majority of exhibits are marvels of inventiveness contrived by a checklist of leading contemporary designers.
Zaha Hadid X United Nude. NOVA, 2013. Chromed vinyl rubber, kid napa leather, fiberglass. Courtesy of United Nude. Photo: Jay Zukerkorn.
Apparently there is evidence of high heels from as long ago as ancient Greece and as far away as China and Japan.
Chinese. Manchu Woman’s Shoe, 19th century. Cotton, embroidered satin-weave silk. Brooklyn Museum. Brooklyn Museum photograph, Sarah DeSantis, photographer
In fact, wherever there have been shoes, people have experimented with the effect you get by raising the soles and heels. Why?
What high heels do
According to the exhibition, high heels affect the wearer’s body thus – they:
push the chest out
lift the bottom
make the legs appear longer and therefore thinner
make the calves more taut and rounded
make the feet appear smaller
All in all, high heels make the wearer’s body seem less stumpy and clumpy (less like the body most of us actually possess) and taller, leaner, more agile and athletic, while emphasising bust and buttocks. In biological terms, they highlight a woman’s fertility, youth and fitness as a mate. On a cultural plane, they dramatise a woman’s sexuality.
In western culture, heels have come to be associated with empowering female sexuality, creating the classic stockings and suspenders ‘sexy’ look, so familiar from movies and posters. It is a short physical step – though quite a large psychological one – beyond this into the stilettoes-and-studs world of BDSM and fetish – once a kind of underground cult, but now popularised by the bestselling Shades of Grey novels – a world in which threatening heels are a key element of the dominating mistress.
Christian Louboutin. Printz, Spring/Summer 201314. Courtesy of Christian Louboutin. Photo: Jay Zukerkorn
Are all these levels of meaning invoked when a woman slips on her heels? Is the root of the pleasure which so many women take in wearing high heels because putting them on amounts to adopting a role, beginning a performance, outside of real life? With this one move, by slipping on one relatively simple item of wear, you can assume a dramatically different body shape and feel, as a result, a different person, a more gorgeous, glamorous, powerful person.
Short films
As well as spectacular shoes, the show includes six short films commissioned to take heels as a theme. The one I liked most was Smash by Marilyn Minter.
I quite liked Spike by Zach Gold, a little pop video-ey.
But I really enjoyed Scary Beautiful by Leanie van der Vyver. She made it as a satire on what happens when fashion gets out of control (there’s a five-minute film explaining her motivation, also on YouTube) but it is, without any commentary, a strange and haunting viewing experience, especially with the numb, bland, empty airport music accompaniment.
There’s also a great movietone newsreel with designers from the 1930s predicting what the woman of 2000 AD will wear. Watch out for the very last line of commentary, where the man of the future is predicted to be wearing a telephone and ‘containers for coins, keys and candies for cuties’.
Vivienne Westwood. Super Elevated Gillie, 1993. Courtesy of Vivienne Westwood. Photo: Jay Zukerkorn
Having gone round this show slowly once, my son and I went off to explore the rest of the Brooklyn Museum, packed with interesting historical and colonial art as it is – but nothing could compare with the killer heels for vibrancy and humour, and so I found myself coming back for a second go-round.
The shoes are funny, clever, colourful, creative, flaming with imagination. Inspiring that something which has, at bottom, such a crude physiological function, so trivial as a shoe, can be transformed by the almost infinite power of the creative mind into an alternative universe of fantasy and fulfilment.
Books & Boots 