Posts Tagged ‘Solo Exhibition’

Marc Swanson at the Saatchi-gallery

December 31st, 2009

Marc Swanson lives and works in Brooklyn. He uses a variety of materials–from crystals and glitter to lumber and deerskin–to make sculptures that examine renewal, personal history, mortality, and rites of passage. He received an MFA from The Milton Avery Graduate School of the Arts at Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, New York, and has recently solo exhibitions at Bellwether Gallery in New York and Julia Friedman Gallery in Chicago. Marc Swanson is a sculptor and installation artist. Swanson’s repeated use of central motifs has resulted in a body of poignant, witty, often self-referential works. In “Killing Moon #3,” Swanson creates a self-portrait as a Yeti in his lair in the boiler room at P. S. 1 for the Greater New York show (2005).

Marc Swanson art work

Marc Swanson’s Fits and Starts is a sculpture of a life-size deer, entirely encrusted in rhinestone crystals. The deer is portrayed mid-leap, its hind legs in the air and its head turned, as if glancing back at a person or another animal in pursuit. Swanson, who views the sculpture in terms of fantasy and desire, notes that the deer is an alluring and elusive creature that is simultaneously darting away and frozen in time. The graceful sculpture suggests an unattainable object of adoration, trying to flee those who wish to approach. Swanson has made several related deer-head sculptures, which he calls his “surrogates,” encrusting the conventional hunter’s trophy with dazzling rhinestones and hanging it on the wall

About Marc Swanson Exhibitions

Marc Swanson’s second solo exhibition at Bellwether, “Live Free or Die,” was an anthem to crushed dreams and hopes for the future. Conceived as a four-part installation comprising individual artworks fitted into a loosely autobiographical scenario, the show roughly conveyed the artist’s coming to terms with his homosexuality and his politically conservative, rural New Hampshire roots. It also suggested a lapsed search for the possibility of renewal in a psychically devastated landscape.

Conclusion of this article:

Swanson’s honky-tonk environment initially seemed to be at odds with his purportedly self-revelatory intent. Each tired symbol pumped up the volume of exhausted artifice. Yet on some level, the contrivance of this deliberately awful down-and-out setting, with its dime-store mannequins and cheaply realized decor–made with, among other things, glitter, sgraffitoed Plexiglas, hockey tape, hanging T-shirts, rope nets, dirt and deerskin–seemed to offer an authentic glimpse into the artist’s sense of abject futility, Goth morbidity and misplaced projection of gay fabulousness.

Read entire article about Marc Swanson or looking for his paintings please visit us on http://www. saatchi-gallery. co. uk/artists/marc_swanson. htm

Why I hate modern art (part 2) – Tillie the Dog Artist

October 14th, 2009

Some while ago I wrote an article that attempted to explain why I hate modern art.

The thrust of my article was that modern art appreciation has shifted the emphasis from the finished artwork to the act of creation itself. Consequentially, a splattered mess of paint can be considered great art if it has a provenance to explain its purpose and meaning.  

To take an example, the first and possibly most famous piece of conceptual art was Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain”. Fountain was a signed urinal, purchased, not made by the artist. Duchamp claimed it to be a work of art because; he chose the item, he gave it a name, placed it in a different context, and so created a new thought for that object.

The Times newspaper recently ran a story on “Tillie”, the ten-year-old Jack Russell terrier who paints (it also ran an item on a tree that draws, but let’s not go there). Tillie was reported to have notched up her 20th solo exhibition, earned more than $100,000 from sales of her work, visited five countries and drawn comparisons with the abstract expressionist Jackson Pollock. Her “artworks” sell for between $100 and $2,000.

The Hollywood Art and Culture Centre in Hollywood, Florida, is the latest gallery to put the dog’s output on show, with an exhibition entitled “The Tillamook Cheddar Mid-Career Retrospective, 1999-2009”.

Tillie “works” by scratching and biting at overturned painted vellum; the pressure of her claws, paws and teeth transferring the coloured pigment on to paper below.

Her “art” has been featured by CBS News, Good Morning America, Inside Edition, Fox News, The National Geographic Network, Animal Planet, The New York Post, The Washington Times, Esquire Magazine, and many others worldwide. Time Out New York described it as “a masterpiece of conceptualism.”

Jane Hart, curator of the Hollywood Art and Culture Centre is quoted as saying, “if you put her work before someone without telling them that a dog did it, they wouldn’t be able to tell it apart from a human artist’s”. The remark appears to be an indication of how “good” Tillie’s painting is!

So I know its all a bit of a joke, but there is a serious side to the story.

In 2006, media mogul David Geffen sold Jackson Pollock’s “No. 5 1948”, for $140 million. This made Pollock’s work the most expensive painting in modern history.

Given the comparisons between Tillie’s and Jackson Pollock’s outputs, it’s no surprise that society can willingly accept the scratchings of a dog as meritorious art!

We have been taught not to question the merit of art: if someone tells us something is art (e.g. puts it in a gallery), we believe that to be true. We are afraid to express an opinion for fear of ridicule. And yet, it would be perfectly reasonable to look at “No. 5”, and remark that it looked like a dog had made it.

Tillie is doing what dogs do. She is scratching and biting. She is not composing, conceptualising, or expressing herself. It is utter madness to portray the outcome of her clawing at paint and paper as art. Placing value on a similar painting produced by a human is insanity. The only genius at work here is the seller’s – not the artist’s.

Portraits by John Burton




By: John Burton