Next show coming up at Gallery 300m3 in ten days time.
I know the title of the work, I know the image. Now I just have to decide on how the hell to present it, and the implications thereof…
I’ve been experimenting with big butt rasterisation. Looks kinda neat, but I’m not sure where I’m heading with this.
Yesterday, in spite of the hang-over, I could actually be seen whistling and even humming to myself. Not often that happens; I’m in a sweet spot – I’m not totally broke, I finished my two week stint at the store, the exhibition came together “well” (by “well” I mean “it’s over and no-one has hit me in the face”) and the allergies & accompanying asthma have left me for now.
Here’s the video I’m showing at monumental, followed by the text from the exhibition catalogue.
“The uncontested order of things: A slideshow curated by Google image search.” 2006
More a proof of concept than a finished work, The uncontested order of things was created by following a set of predefined rules applied to google image search.
The search query consisted of each letter of the Swedish alphabet (A-Z + Å, Ä, Ö), and the first forty resulting images were downloaded. Duplicate images were not downloaded, nor were gif animations, although they retained their position in the “top forty”, resulting in some queries resulting in less than forty downloaded images.
One random image per queried letter was then put into a slideshow in the order of the alphabet, and the resulting movie was adapted for the 90-second screen time.
The motivation for this process, of which the resulting slideshow is but one possible combination (let alone one possible way to present the combinations) is:
1) To see how many apparently random images we can fit into a narrative, and
2) Given the omnipresence of Google, how easily received/understood/accepted the images are when
3) A qualitative analysis of the images (and search results in general) shows an (apparently) unproportional US/EU presence, which in turn should
4) Kick us in the nuts for too easily accepting the perceived “freedom of the Internet”, and not reflecting enough on what our online behavior tells of ourselves, but also what actual and very manifest power we are supporting by our actions.
And of course, since Mark actually beat me in ping-pong this afternoon, T don’t command respenct around here anymore, and am thus reduced to making comments in poor taste about people who are dead:
Our Apropos 90 show opened yesterday, so now we only have another show at gallery 300m3 to worry about in two weeks time. The catalogue for the Valand spring show is here: www.valand.gu.se [2MB pdf link]
The ones finishing their MA this year showed at Konsthallen, but even though I made my best effort imbibing, nothing much was exciting (mind you, I rarely find anything exciting, so this is more of a rule than an exception), although some of the stuff shown by the un-masters was quite nice. (Problem is that as long as we’re in an institution, there’s a feeling of school assignment creeping in. It’s not necessarily a reflection on the work, but rather that we’re showing at the university with other people who are our class-mates)
The rest of the evening followed a by now familiar pattern of fine drink, fine people and some fine ping-pong.
And it’s always rewarding to look twice at images. For example, I hadn’t realised that the terminator was at the same party as I, standing behind me.
Ok ok, so I’ve just had a boring day, no need to deny that something fun might actually happen sooner or later, but today has been ugh.
From the top:
* Long distance shot of demons milling about an illegal party.
* Mark points in the direction of fun happening.
* Anna enjoys herself in Rasmus bike while he pokes the chain a bit.
* Anna enjoys herself in Rasmus bike, while rasmus yells something.
* Handbook for physical theraphists who like to snap peoples necks.
I got me some new shades
[da-dum, da-dum]
And I think I look quite cool
[da-dum, da-dum]
Even though my hair bahaves badly
[da-dum, da-dum]
Like a beaver on steroids
[da-dum, da-dum]
And my nose is full of tree semen
[da-da-dum, da-dum]
Which makes me sneeze all the time
[da-dum, da-dum]
Ooh yeah! (etc.)
It’s like this: A friend of mine organised this rather big festival indoors that started at three in the afternoon and kept on going until 01:00. (now, actually)
They had lotsa bands playing, some stalls, a mini ramp for skateboards. And a big warehouse they didn’t really manage to fill, (it would’ve taken a thousand people to get a crowd going, and there were 2-300 perhaps?) and it was really, really cold. Really cold. Very very cold. This being a aforementioned “big big warehouse.”
Lot of very nicely geared up teenagers, and of course I feel out of place. My friend is running around climbing stuff and doing all those things that need to get done when you pull something of this magnitude together, which leaves me fending for myself with whatever pitiful social skills that I have: Usually they consist of me lending my lighter to people who are standing outside of the locale, smoking with fingers so frostbitten that the glow from cigarettes is the only thing that’s keeping them from falling apart (á la terminator 2). It’s very cold.
I did rediscover that some of the people from the (brilliant) band bob hund had reformed as Sci-fi skane. And that was good. Apart from that, I was supposed to take some pictures. Since I wasn’t paid, I left it to my mood to dictate what I’d shoot, so it was few pictures, mostly taken from a distance, showing concrete walls, cigarette butts and the occasional first-aid person.
In order of appereance:
* The brain-eating scene from Hannibal.
* A very well dressed young lady that passed us by on the street. Goth chique sort of.
* Some people were drinking with their noses at Kings Head. I borrowed a nose and apparently have lip-gloss on.
When I’ve crossed a road I often get the sensation that I’ve been run over. I have to look back over my shoulder to see if my mangled body isn’t lying in the street somewhere, with skidmarks leading up to and over it.
It’s a very odd feeling; Unfortunately, the only illustration of this is the scene from ghost where Sam runs after the guy who stabbed him, only to look back at his girlfriend leaning over his dead body.
What this leads up to is me telling you not to run for trams or busses or trains or whatever. My friend Þora had the great misfortune to combine running with Gothenburg, which at this time of year consists of ice, gravel and a blistering cold. She slipped, hit her head on the curb and briefly passed out.
She knocked her head quite badly in the fall, and we’re still waiting to see what the consequences will be (ie, surgery or no surgery). Right now she has a splitting headache, feels rather sad and annoyed about the state of things, and looks like she tried to read aloud the biography of Malcom X at a klan-rally.
I went over to the hospital to help her home, and next to the receptionist there, there were these pamphlets informing about scabs, blisters, ticks, incontinence, acne and thirty other odds and ends on the failing of the human body. The pamphlets about depression were the only ones that were out of stock.
When I ate happy-happy pills a while ago I did some research into how many people in Sweden are on these pills, and even though I can’t recall the number right now I was very surprised. It’s like one in every twenty persons or somesuch. What the hell is wrong with us? Is life in this gray country so miserable? Are more people concerned with taking pamphlets about depression rather than the common cold?
I’m imagining a gov run program in a couple of years time entitled “don’t worry, be happy.” The subtitle of this program would be if you really can’t be happy, take these pills and make sure you’re still contributing to society by staying in your depression-inducing workplace, and don’t kill yourself before you’ve payed off your student loans. Of course, such a program would be doomed to cause instant depression in at least half the population, spreading mental illness across the globe and ending civilization as we know it.
