Lastly, our header is of Cartsen Nicolai (aka Alva Noto) preforming Xerrox. Make sure you catch Nicolai along with various other artists at the ICA for the special 12 Years Of Raster-Noton concert.
Thursday evenings in Shoreditch normally consist of seeing some ropey electro band at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen then dancing to '60s rock 'n' roll at Catch with a girl in a polkadot dress. Not that there is anything wrong with this experience but the collectiveminds behind the Stag And Dagger festival clearly think there is scope for something bigger on a Thursday night. And Stag And Dagger is massive -- spanning a shed-load of venues in the Hoxton area and boasting more live acts and DJs than you can shake a stick at. You can't describe in 200-odd words the sheer amount of quality on offer but the Greco Roman, Ed Banger and Moshi Moshi parties will certainly be worth attending and it's not exactly every week that you get talented American DJ/Producers like A Trak and Diplo playing in London. Those that want to seek out bands on the up should check Little Boots, the new electropop project from Dead Disco's lovely Victoria, ace French band The Shoes and cock rock revivalists Turbowolf. If on the odd chance you have some old eggs stinking up your kitchen, you might want to propel them in the direction of the amazinglyannoyingGeorge Lamb who is also DJing on the night.
NB: Stag And Dagger takes place at 15 venues in the Shoreditch/Hoxton area and admission price includes entry to all venues. Also of note and in the area but not part of Stag And Dagger is the secretsundaze's night with D'Julz + Dan Berkson & James What at Plastic People.
Are multinationals the new wave of fascism? Does our collective moral compass evolve, or just adapt to new circumstances? Heartbeat Detector (La questionhumaine) approaches these questions through the experiences of Simon Kessler (The Diving Bell And The Butterfly's Mathieu Amalric), the somewhat emotionally detached psychologist in the HR department at a German petrochemical firm in Paris. Kessler's skills at assessing potential staff -- and selecting current employees for redundancy -- are unsurpassed. He knows what makes people tick and how to maximise their potential (or liquidate them) for the company's benefit -- efficiency and profit are paramount. When covertly assigned to assess the CEO's emotional state, however, circumstances and history begin to challenge his thinking. The film draws a parallel between modern corporate practices and the philosophies of fascist wartime Germany, commenting on the dehumanising ethics of corporate management strategies. Kessler's journey from blinkered company foot-soldier to questioning dissenter gives the film a distinctive political tone, and poses some provocative questions about the corporate psyche.
Richard Sapper has won the Compasso D'Oro nearly a dozen times and has never stopped being relevant despite the fads, fashions and effrontery that have come and gone in the design world. As an industrial designer he is resolutely committed to the hierarchy of function over form, but never compromises his eagle-eyed streamlining of the
machine aesthetic. To many he is best know for his products for Alessi, the iconic Tizio table lamp, and an early version of the IBM ThinkPad, a revolutionary feat, especially given that he developed this
prototype in 1981. His work is regularly featured in design collections the world over including MoMA, yet there is something inappropriate about looking at his work in the context of a museum, as he rarely if ever designs precious objects. Perhaps the greatest heir to his design legacy has arrived in form of Konstantin Grcic, who like Sapper was born in Munich. After reaching the ripe age of 75, Sapper has much to reflect on. His work looks as crisp as ever. Few other designers of such longstanding influence have been able to avoid kitsch and the other pitfalls of product design -- don't miss the chance to hear more about him.
This illuminating exhibition traces a group of artists' fascination with the built environment in all its shapes and forms. One of the show's highlights is French artist Cyprien Gaillard's GeographicalAnalogies, in which various polaroids of different landscapes are juxtaposed, inviting the viewer to explore the poetic dialogues between them, in the vein of Robert Smithson's investigations into entropic environments. In the same gallery, Jason Burch's series of videos provides a look at two men contemplating their environment: they decide what shrubs they will add to a suburban house, muse on the happenings of a building site and then simply gaze at a hazy blue hill, in silent fascination. In addition, there are nostalgic depictions of New Jersey by Dan Graham, a sound recording by Ken Montgomery and some rather wonderful found objects, such as Amikam Toren's shattered glass window, Burglary 4, as well as works by, among others, Armando Andrade Tudela, Becky Beasley, Cullinan + Richards and Stephen Willats.
Sven Weisemann makes lovely, warm techno/house -- a style that has enjoyed renewed popularity in recent years, thanks to labels such as Mojuba (which Weisemann co-runs) and Styrax (which he has released on). Both of these labels are based in Berlin, which could explain the dubby influence that characterises much of the material. Yet while Weisemann's production output is generally quite sedate in mood, his DJ sets reflect a different side to his musical personality. Chicago house and Detroit techno dominate the mix, thrown together in an energetic style reminiscent of Derrick May (no small compliment). His previous London appearance was also for the To The Bone crowd, so he should be in confident form this Friday. Charlie, Dave and Rik, the residents, will be supporting him downstairs, while upstairs Stuart Patterson, Controllata and Katie Barber are running things. If you haven't checked out the fairly new East Village yet, this would be a sound opportunity.
There is a strange relationship between surfing and the grotesque. It runs deeper than just the familiarity-cum-fascination with bleached out briny detritus that so many surfers share. Even surf music has a tendency to degrade into a slow and sleazy self-satire, not entirely unlike the smile dripping from the face of a deranged clown -- just ask The Cramps. So once you've got your feet wet, you can see the connection between surf and punk, between recklessness and revelry, but there's more. The consummate surfers' Shangri-La is a sort of Zen state, suspended inbetween elements, totally isolated and exhilarated, experiencing a sort of stillness in motion -- the solitary moment for the member of the surf cult, maybe more Zen surfer than zombie. For the moment at least. Throw in a mature and introspective vision of the broader meanings of the intersections between skate culture, surf culture, high art and science, and there you are, wading into the breakers. If this seems more like some arcane algebraic equation than a relentless and swelling sub-culture, and you're still not prepared to throw yourself into the riptide, the show is set up for you to kick back, take your time and think on it.
Western governments have recently declared "war on terror", as if terror were not an already an instrument of modern war. This fascinating portrait of the vocation -- indeed, the advocacy -- of the French lawyer Jacques Verges, explores the gap between legality and legitimacy in the exercise of violence by these governments. Beginning with the anti- colonialstruggle in Algeria, Verges' legal strategy is a "rupture defence" -- refusing to collude with the government's treating of the accused as criminals rather than political enemies. Not the least of the film's many ambiguities is that its real content consists not only in what its contributors cannot or will not say publicly, but in what its very format of interviews and footage refuses to reveal. Verges himself seems supremely confident of this paradox of the documentary, often disappearing, like the Cheshire Cat, into his ironic smile. His usually detached, analytical narrative, however, gives way when his passion is audible in condemning the torture of those held in custody by the State. Asked if he would "even defend Hitler", Verges replies: "I would even defend Bush, on condition that he pleaded guilty." This important film documents not just an intriguing figure, but his cause as well -- as pursued, at least publicly, within the law.
Given the fact that this line-up includes the formidable UK improvisers Evan Parker, Roger Turner and Pat Thomas, the Swedish component of this evening would appear to be entering more into a kind of face-off than simply presenting us with their wares. Nevertheless, this is a challenge the maverick saxophonist Mats Gustafsson will no doubt relish every moment of. Probably best known for his band The Thing, Gustafsson is a formidable player who has cultivated a unique style and method of playing that takes as much from '80s punk and new wave as from '60s free jazz and improvisation. Given his tense, visceral style, it's even tempting to think that when David Lynch created the strung-out, sax-playing character Fred Madison for his epic Lost Highway, that he had Gustafsson in mind. Either way, it's safe to say that Gustafsson and fellow Swedish composer/sound artist BJ Nilsen will be seriously bending minds during the course of the evening.
The term "stoner rock" is problematic for all kinds of reasons, namely that it tends to condemn an entire genre of rock music to the realm of adolescent ambient euphoria and any more grown-up nuances or motivations go, well, up in smoke. These Canadian indie rockers have the raw-edged, hard-rock, metal-meets-psychedelic resonance that usually summons the "stoner-rock" label, but their sound is both classic and fresh. Like so many of their compatriots, Black Mountain fronts a broader collective -- an army in fact -- of artists and musicians from in and around East Van and are known for more than just the band in its various manifestations. As for their musical flavour, picture a mix of Led Zeppelin, Stone Roses, Kyuss and Jefferson Airplane and you might be approaching the Black Mountain sound. In a distinctive return to the progressive sincerity of '60s and '70s North American rock, dimly reminiscent of the great jam band/tour band phenomena like the Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers Band that has splintered and transmogrified in recent years, Black Mountain is both funky and ragged, with roots reaching into metal, classic rock, folk and experimental indie grinds.
20th century philosophers Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre symbolize a libertine epoch -- one of unlimited shagging, bisexuality, existentialism; philosophical rigour, complete with bohemian outbursts against the bourgeoisie. The couple lived their lives according to the existentialist belief of man's capacity to transcend the limitations of his being. And what lives they lived! Carole Seymour Jones' book, A Dangerous Liaison, tells the intense, passionate and often painful story of how these two brilliant free-thinkers -- and rivals -- came to have a relationship that was to last over 50 years. Likened to the relationship of the scheming Viscount de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil in Les liaisons dangereuses, the pair embarked upon nefarious intrigues, trysts, betrayals, and generally outrageous behaviour. Marriage and bourgeois convention were to be abhorred: they preferred to distort behaviour and deny freedom, so de Beauvoir became a glorified procuress, exploiting her profession as a teacher to seduce impressionable female pupils and then pass them on to Sartre, who had a taste for virgins. He also clandestinely compromised with the Nazis and endorsed Communism (as a replacement for Christianity). And yet de Beauvoir believed that her relationship with Sartre was the greatest achievement of her life. Prepare for an evening of juicy scandal and some philosophy.
"Once upon a time there was a city without a voice": so begins Argentine director Esteban Sapir's unusual and stylish modern black and white silent fable. La Antena is heavily influenced by early Expressionist cinema -- Fritz Lang's Metropolis in particular -- stylistically, but also in its urban setting, atmosphere of menace and paranoia and bad guys-vs-everyman story. Complete with cigar-chomping despotic corporate villain, deranged scientist and vermin-like chauffeur henchman, the film charts the battle of a "little man" to reclaim a voice for the mute city, long-silenced by the rapacious and tyrannical Mr TV. Visually inventive, with brilliant art direction, the film replaces conventional intertitles with subtitles that are woven directly into the frame, assuming a variety of typefaces, angles and dimensions to fit the character or emotions being expressed. Not just a pastiche of early cinema, but like the faux-Expressionist films of Guy Maddin (The Saddest Music In The World, Careful), La Antena is also humorous and completely timely. Sapir has cleverly employed a voice-less cinema to illustrate the battle to regain a voice for the individual, and used an antiquated style to create a modern allegory about mass media, corporate tyranny and the right to protest. Surreal, original and a feast for the eyes.
In herlatest work (incredibly, all made in her 80s) Maria Lassnig continues to explore the "inner sensations" of bodily states: in particular what she has called "body awareness". Her palette is familiar (trademark fluorescent yellows, rose pinks and cyan blue), while the brushstrokes too are typically hers, maintaining that delicious tension between knowing proficiency and "feminine" delicacy. The work is compositionally sparser than previously, often with the ground left purely white; absolutely no "circumstantial detail" to the scenes is given. This economy of means only serves to intensify the subjects -- which involve different permutations of bodily positions, usually of one or a pair of figures, detached from any narrative context. A group of lying men are clustered awkwardly: a fat, bald man on all fours looks set to strangle a doll; Adam and Eve follow each other, again on all fours; a group of sick figures lie in a hospital bed, and are split to reveal their abstract interiors. Fleshy, tense, metamorphosing, decomposing, Lassnig's figures are compelling close-ups of the human body, with none of the overt existential pathos of Bacon or Bourgeois. Undoubtedly one of the strongest contemporary painting shows of the year.
The journalistic field is changing. In recent years, with the sudden epiphany that anyone with a camera in their mobile phone can break a front page story, internationally recognized newspapers -- the Washington Post, the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal -- have all seen a decline in numbers of what was once their most valued asset: the foreign correspondent. Edward Behr was one of those rare animals to witness the uprisings and undoings of the greatest political movements in the latter part of the 20th century. He was a world traveller, a quality writer and a sharp wit whose memoirs, acerbically titled Anyone Here Been Raped And Speaks English?, have become a fieldmanual on how to document political upheaval and human conflict and still keep your head. Behr was numbered among the pioneers of the field, making the rules up as he went along, and is remembered in this event by fellow news writers, photographers and filmmakers who knew him and have been inspired by his work. There will be a screening of a series of clips of and about his work followed by a Q&A by filmmaker Anthony Geffen, who collaborated with Behr on a number of documentary projects.
Sadler's Wells kicks of the summer season with a schedule that marries the old with the new. To composer John Adams' Chamber Symphony, American choreographer Doug Varone creates his first work for the company: Scribblings, a piece that promises to be full of energy and fun. Fun too is Anatomica #3 by Canadian Andre Gingras. Presented last year the 18 hilarious incarnations of the Queen complete with pink below-the-knee coat-dress and handbag, return to the Wells for our delight. Don't miss the fantastic hip-hop battle between the "Queens" and street kids. The revival comes from the grande dame of the British contemporary dance world, Siobhan Davies, who remounts for Rambert Carnival Of The Animals, set to the most playful music by Camille Saint-Saens. Although Davies' work has since taken her to new shores, this 1982 piece is guaranteed to both seduce and charm. So if you are in the mood for a celebration of the love of dance, dancers and music, don't wait for the revivals, come and see it fresh from the studio!
Baltimore musicians have a long tradition of eccentricity; better yet, downright lunacy. From the
chaotic strains of Baltimore club through to Dan Deacon's clownish speed-electro, its residents are liable to inject unpredictability and a certain animal spirit into conventional forms. Indie pop and psych folk anoraks got that in spades with the genesis of Animal Collective and its many sons, of which Panda Bear's Person Pitch album became a rampaging cause celebre among those busily compiling "best of" lists at the turn of the year. On his own, Noah Lennox conjures an electronically-rinsed Brian Wilson. With the input of Avey Tare, Deakin (aka Josh Dibb) and Geologist, the foursome, now based in New York, has an even wider experimental palette that wraps in elements of folk and post-punk with refreshingly little pretension. Like Dan Deacon, it makes no attempt to be accessible, let alone mass-market, but there's enough musical juice to get at least the first layer of a music geek's friends interested. It's hard to imagine anyone other than ATP, the promotion force majeure where Pitchfork-addled bedroom critics are concerned, having the guts to throw them on at KOKO. The buzz among the indier-than-thou will only be stoked by a supporting set from Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox as Atlas Sound.
"The man who is at the front edge of intellectual activity in the American theatre" -- as Peter Sellars once put it, and he should know -- is now 70, but as anyone who saw the most recent production by his Ontological-Hysterical Theater knows, his work is as fresh, fast, and raw as ever. Its very title, Deep Trance Behavior In Potatoland, bespeaks the "intensity, fun, manic energy, insanity, brains" (as Eric Bogosian put it) that are this prodigious writer/director's stock-in-trade. It continues Foreman's recent tendency to reframe his work, not as pure theatre, but rather as a furious clash between it and film. "No relationship exists between what happens onstage and what is happening on the illuminated screen, except -- suddenly -- click -- and a profound relationship does now exist." Richard Foreman's work has only once been seen in London (as part of Laurie Anderson's 1997 Meltdown festival) so this talk presents a rare opportunity to catch up with the restless genius. In case you miss it, he has posted hundreds of pages of the unedited texts that are the basis for all his productions on his website, inviting anyone to use them freely to create their own versions. You might be inspired to try it at home.
Twelve years is a lifetime in the hyperactive, velocity-driven world of digital arts, so this celebration is especially poignant. Founded In East Germany by Carsten Nicolai and Olaf Bender, Raster-Noton was conceived as a platform for the networking of music, art and science, sketching links between disciplines towards a unified vision. Musically drawn to starched, desiccated rhythms and crystalline harmonies, both sensual and cerebral, their roster has become a roll call of the dominant glitch music scene of recent years, with a catalogue of over 70 releases. This night highlights the diverse voices of the label, from the funkier face with the ghettotech rhythms of Frank Bretschneider, to the mechanical steel cold of Byetone, Nicolai's submolecula alter ego Alva Noto, the swirling basstones of Kangding Ray and their very own supergroup Signal. Tag teaming DJs Mark Fell and Mat Steel of SND draw out the night into the early morning. Let the algorithms speak.
NB: this event is close to selling out so make sure you book your tickets quick.
In his first show at Simon Lee gallery, Oslo-based artist Matias Faldbakken gives us a glimpse into a tortured and negated world of (non)communication. In his piece One Spray Can Escapist, a word is repeatedly sprayed onto the wall until the can is empty and the word, together with any meaning it might impart, are obscured. Another piece, Remainder II, is a section of tiled wall graffitied with illegible tags, the identifier rendered un-identifiable. The artist's engaging and contrary personality shows as he consistently employs methods to produce the opposite effect, the repeated spraying not reinforcing but decreasing the impact of the word: a newspaper blown up so far that it loses its ability to convey meaning coherently. Faldbakken tends to be referred to in terms of Situationism, Dada and Punk and there is a clear intellectual underpinning to his work; indeed his literary Scandinavian Misanthropy Trilogy (including the perhaps somewhat dangerously titled The Cocka Hola Company) has something of a cult following. This is fresh and vital work, not to be missed.
An ethereal calm fills the first floor of Riflemaker. Four display cases housing glowing moonscapes are the result of an intriguing collaboration between American artist Liliane Lijn and NASA. Stardust isn't the first effort by the artist to encourage a marriage between art and science, for Lijn was awarded a NASA-funded Fellowship in 2005, and was the first artist-in-residence at the Space Sciences Laboratory in California. To create these miniature worlds, Lijn used Aeorgel, a substance created by NASA to gather interstellar dust. Lijn found that Aerogel's porous structure could take on conical shapes, which were a continuation of the kinetic cone works that made her name in the '60s. The surreal nature of these mini-cities inspires thoughts not just of our cosmos but of fantasy worlds such as Atlantis or Narnia -- perhaps time spent hanging with the Surrealists and studying oriental and western philosophy had as much of an effect on Lijn's practice as the more scientific influences of NASA. A soothing retro soundtrack floats through the air as light is projected onto each cosmic ruin, making the surfaces dance and conjuring up images of life in outer space.
This exhibition celebrates Richard Rogers, one of "the" names to have
dominated architecture for the last 40-odd years. Curated and designed with great finesse by his third son Ab, the retrospective is fresh fromits debut at the Pompidou Centre, a fitting setting for a trip downmemory lane, and the building that set off the "entrails hanging out" style for which he is known (see the Lloyds Building and Channel 4 HQ), where all is laid bare, the streamlined dressing of the facade abandoned for a rugged, tool-belt-type aesthetic, and not far from Russian Constructivism (a Rogers favourite). His oeuvre is reasoned into a series of themes that reflect the architectural language of his practice and that have shaped the innovative strides in his work. There is curious blend of icon and innovator in Rogers: Lloyds is soon to be Grade 1 listed and made a heritage site, while his Madrid Barajas Airport won the Stirling Prize. Last year saw Rogers win the prestigious Pritzker Prize, the highest accolade an architect could hope for, decided as it is by other architects. At 74 he is still hungry for it, with international projects including Tower 3 at the World Trade Center site. He maintains a hand in the future of London, as Chair of Design For London Advisory Group, and was Ken's right hand architecture man, before the Boris interruption, of course.
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