Modern Art

Art is subjective; that’s about the least subjective comment you can make when referring to it. And this applies to Art in all senses, writing, music, visuals... I always loved English and Art at school because of its subjectivity and the way in which text or images can be interpreted and analysed in different ways. Sometimes looking for too deep an explanation however means that the audience starts to interpret things which I am pretty sure the author or artist will never have intended or even thought about themselves. Studying film analysis as part of my Media and Communications Degree was enjoyable but also laughable as we looked for signs and symbols that probably were never really there. When you get too caught up in analysing text or film it can also kind of ruin the surprise element of some stories as you become really good at picking up on subtle clues. I remember going to see The Sixth Sense and guessing the twist very early on because I clearly saw the scenes which were inserted for a particular reason.

I’ve received comments on stories/poems I’ve written, where people have read too much into things or read it as being about something completely different from what I have intended. Some people have looked for me in my pieces, some look for themselves. I think a lot of people view art with themselves as the central reference point – they understand it in reflection to something they can relate to.

Modern art is subjective with a capital S as far as I’m concerned. A lot of it confuses and annoys me and I wonder if that is the intention – to provoke a reaction rather than inspire an emotion. Some of it seems so simplistic I get annoyed that it is taking up exhibition space. I visited the Fruitmarket Galleries in Edinburgh recently and was confronted with a row of different sized cactus and colour swatches on the wall. IKEA would have provided more tantalising visual stimulation. And the most visualy pleasing image I saw recently in the GOMA was the reflection of sunlight streaming in to the stairway through the stain glass windows (see top pic).


Back in my University days I wrote an essay about Andy Warhol. I read a lot about his life and his art in relation to Postmodern Society (Postmodernity). Cultural theorists believe that we moved into a postmodern era in the early 1960s, just when Andy Warhol was emerging in the fine art world in America and developing a new form of art termed ‘Pop’. Some brief characteristics of postmodern culture: preoccupation with celebrity, consumerism, mass production, pastiche, loss of authenticity and originality, rejection of moral and scientific universal truths, depthlessness, the blurring of boundaries of high culture and mass popular culture... I could go on.
Andy Warhol and ‘Pop Art’ encapsulate these characteristics. Warhol produced art work focusing on celebrities, he incorporated media headlines into his art and everyday consumer products such as Campbell Soup Cans and Coca Cola bottles. He used repetitive images, reflecting sameness and loss of originality and depthlessness, “...the more you look at the same exact thing, the more the meaning goes away, and the better and emptier you feel.” A quote from Warhol himself, in Popism.


His mechanical technique of silk-screening images allowed for the mass production of identical works in a fast and efficient way. His images immediately communicate a message to us, a meaning which really goes no deeper than what is presented on the surface which corresponds with Solomon’s idea that, ‘The attractive surface image is all that matters in a Postmodern Society.’ (Solomon, quoted in Berger, 1998).

I started to put together a visual book a few years ago (which is where the Andy Warhol images on this page are taken from), trying to connect a lot of his art to what is still unfolding in our culture today. The obsession with celebrity is every growing. His films such as Sleep, which simply features one of Warhol’s friends sleeping, forces audiences to take notice of the seemingly banal occurrences in our everyday lives. This reminds me of the live streaming of Big Brother. I’m sure obsessive fans will have stayed up all night just watching the contestants sleep (never me, I have to add! The edited day versions were usually boring enough after you get used to the format). Warhol also made frequent comments about how he wished he was a machine. See quote on the image below and the disturbing image of someone hooked in to a virtual reality helmet as they play on their computer. Warhol appears to have been more progressive in his ideas than even he would have realised. He often filmed the day to days of glamorous people who hung around his ‘Factory’; Edie Sedgwick being one. His films are all the more authentic as they aren’t edited by producers, but I can’t help relating these to TV shows such as The Hills, following the day to days of glamorous 20 somethings in LA. (which I got totally hooked on).



I’m currently reading ‘POPism’, written by Andy Warhol himself (with assistance from Pat Hatchett), which is his account of his career and those around him in the 60s. It’s fascinating reading and is presenting Warhol in a much better light than anything else I’ve read (hardly surprising seeing as it is in his own words). I’ve only got to the start of 1964 so he has yet to meet Edie and isn’t a massive ‘celeb’ yet so it will be interesting to see how it progresses. I like a comment he makes; ‘...Pop comes from the outside...’ pg 20. Again relating to the idea that with Pop Art what you see is what you get– there is nothing deeper than the image which is portrayed. He goes on to say,’...the only thing that counted was what showed up on canvas-not where the idea came from...’ pg.21. When I was in Barcelona I saw some of his work in a gallery there. There was a Campbell Soup dress on a mannequin in the middle of the display. I’m still unsure about what I really think of his art work. At the first look my natural instinct is to say “So what?” and the colours make it all look a bit brash and theatrical. But in comparison to more recent modern art by artists such as Tracy Emin, (whose work, from what I’ve seen, I detest), it’s positively captivating. And in my case Warhol has not achieved what he set out to do – it’s not his surface images that I am really focusing on. I am constantly more intrigued and fascinated by the inside; the story of the person behind those images and everyone round about him during that period. But on reflection this is probably actually what he did really set out to achieve. For him, it wasn’t just about the art, he wanted to achieve fame and recognition and in the end he himself became both an Icon and product of the postmodern world.

The Big Dilemma

Over the past month or so I’ve worked my way through my Sex and The City box set. I loved watching this series right from the start, all the way through, as you can really see how the characters grow and I finally understood Carrie’s never ending love for Big.

According to articles I’ve read women are supposed to be in one camp; Aidan or Big. I always thought I swayed more towards Aidan until I watched the love stories unfold in linear order. And more importantly I noticed how Carrie was with each man.
With Big, right from the first scene it is clear that he stirs a big reaction in her (pun intended). He makes her laugh, makes her cry (a little too much, nearly enough to make me jump back into camp Aidan), turns her world upside down time and time again but out of all the men in her life she always runs back. No matter what has gone before, he draws her in and even with all the misery he has caused her when she is with him you can see true love and happiness in her smile. And true despair when she is faced with the news he has to have heart surgery. She has an all consuming passion for him.

He seems baffled by her, but at the same time you can see the fascination and adoration he has for her, the fear that he can’t be with her, the desperation that he can’t lose her. Thank god he finally grows a pair and rescues her from the decidedly creepy Alexander Poxy (who was by far my least favourite of all of Carrie’s starring men. Arrogant, sleazy, pathetically in need of a woman to prop up his ego. Their first phone conversation when she kept hanging up on him due to not being able to understand his accent was about the only humour he injected into her life).

Aidan is Mr Nice. There's a theory that women are at some point supposed to figure out that Mr Nice makes for a wiser investment. But not if he brings out Miss Nasty; which I think Aidan brought out in Carrie. Her character strikes me as a pretty loyal lady, and yet she jumps into bed with Big not that far into the relationship and she snaps quite a lot at Mr Nice, particularly when on a romantic vacation to his man-made country home. You can see her pained recognition that this is a gentle, loyal, adoring, handsome man who loves her, who will give her everything that Big never would....or maybe not. On the surface it appears that Aidan is clearly the better man but not if he makes Carrie compromise herself to the detriment of losing her sparkle.

From date one Carrie really tries hard and here in lies the problem – with Aidan she has to try. She tries so hard to kick her addictions; smoking and Big. She tries to appreciate the wonderful man she has, she tries to convince herself that marriage with him is the logical move but her body protests, violently – vomiting at the sight of an engagement ring and allergic reactions to wedding dresses isn’t even quite enough to make her back off completely (and Big has commitment issues??). It takes Aidan to point out the obvious to her; that she just isn’t ever going to love him enough.

Because of course Big is her one true love. If there was ever an argument for someone having a one true love, their story is it. And, once he gets over being an emotionally challenged commitment phobe, he is her perfect man. Sophisticated and wealthy enough to compliment her fashionista lifestyle, mature enough to not be threatened by her success,(Berger, you had so much promise), on the same humour page so able provide her with plenty of belly laughs, satisfies her between the sheets, reads her column and doesn’t get offended by it (seriously how she manages to keep any man when she writes about them in such a public forum is beyond me). Even her fiercely protective friends in the end recognise that Big is Carrie’s one and only.

For me though, the series biggest love story is the friendship between Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. It’s so heartening to see women’s friendship portrayed in such a fiercely supportive, protective and loyal way. I remember reading that Sarah Jessica Parker said that the series taught her to appreciate her female friends more. There’s a line in the film where one of them (I think Charlotte) says maybe they can be one another’s soul mates and men can be an accompaniment to that. While it’s clear they all still feel more complete with the men in their lives, (Samantha points out a very obvious thing only a man can provide, but I’m talking about more than that of course), I do think it’s true that women can sometimes look to men to be their ‘all’ when we forget that sometimes they just can’t understand us in quite the same way a female friend can. Female friends I salute you!

I have to say out of all of the men in the series Smith has got to have been the model boyfriend (and I’m not talking about his model looks!). I defy anyone who did not cry when he returned home early from a shoot to be with Samantha and she told him how no man had meant so much to her - the tears weren’t just for that scene but from the whole way he had supported her through her cancer. I really loved the finishing scenes of the series. I would never have forgiven the writers if Carrie had ended up staying in Paris with Alexander!









I have to point out these faux pas in the footnotes of this entry: I watched in confusion the episode where Carrie constantly referred to the right hand side of the brain as the logical side, and the left as the creative, irrational side. Anyone as creative as Carrie would know that it’s the opposite way round! How did no one on this show pick up on this?

Oh and when Miranda names her and Steve’s baby Brady it’s a touching moment. Until the episode where she marries Steve and their son becomes...Brady Brady. Doh!

This is what happens when you watch box sets. You become one of those annoying people who start to notice the glips along the way. Like when I watch re-runs of Friends on E4 and it strikes me that David Schwimmer is an appauling actor! How did I never notice that first time around??

Life Drawing

I went along to my first Life Drawing class the other night, armed with a sketchbook and a pathetic looking HB pencil. (I do have a pack of professional drawing pencils which are hiding somewhere so obvious that I have been unable to find them). From experience I know that you can still get a fairly decent looking piece of artwork out of an HB pencil so I wasn't too bothered.

I was the last to arrive at the class so the model was already standing in full naked pose when I walked into the room. It was slightly disconcerting but also refreshing to see that a female with more than a little extra bumps and lumps stood so comfortably in front of her audience. She had her back to me for the first 10 minute pose. When she turned around for the next pose I was again slightly disconcerted to see her grinning away at me when I looked up. I decided to skip the face and just focus on the body. Getting lost in the drawing soon transforms 'a naked body' into shapes and interesting lines; in short the body becomes art and there is something really liberating about this.

In a world which is becoming increasingly preoccupied by perfection and overdosing on botox, liposuction,(you name it), I appreciated the beauty of the lived in quality of the stretchmarks, cellulite and scars that stood in front of me.

I had a glance at some of the others drawings during break and I have to say I was impressed by the quality. My drawings turned out alright too.

Publication

It's a good feeling to have a piece of writing, no matter how small, formally accepted for publication and even better to see it there in print with my name above it! So here it is (what I would have titled flash fiction but it's in under prose poetry, which sounds more sophisticated really) in Spilling Ink Review Issue 2:

spillinginkreview.com/issue-2/prose-poetry/vikki-gemmell

(I have no idea why this site is not letting me insert proper links. You will need to copy and paste :/)

I'm liking Spilling Ink (not just because I am in it!). It is showcasing a diversity of writing styles, from home and abroad.

My little success has spurred me on to write myself out of a little block I had for a while and it was a good feeling to produce two new stories over the weekend.

Long may the creative spurt last!

Cult

What is it about some film stars, musicians, artists, that causes an adoration bordering on obsession from fans? I’m avoiding using the word celebrity because to me celebrity conjures up images of Jordan (Katie Price, whatever) and even Brad Pitt is more of a celebrity these days than a real star. A real star generates a cult following, makes the public almost worship their indefinable cool and leaves a mark on the world long after they’re gone.

To me stars who embody this are James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Kurt Cobain, River Phoenix…and I’m hoping the most recent one stays alive; Robert Pattinson.
Ok, so many people don’t think he is the embodiment of cool seeing as his most well known films are Harry Potter and the Twilight series. I remember reading in the press that Cedric from Harry Potter had landed the coveted role of Edward the vampire in Twilight and I thought, Cedric, seriously? A floppy haired posh English boy was far too nice to cut it as a vamp. Then I watched Twilight, a good number of months after it had been released on DVD, and remember feeling like my eyes were glued to the TV as Mr Pattinson walked into that cafeteria (what a difference staying out the sun and coiffing up your hair with super strength hair spray can make).
By the time he was sitting doing science experiments with Bella I was hooked. This was what every Vampire in gothic history should be. Someone with a presence and an indefinable broody passion which you could totally imagine throwing your human life away for. He also had me glued to the screen in his film Remember Me. He is captivating with a capital C. Not since River Phoenix have I felt so compelled and fascinated by a film star.

I’m hoping that Mr P keeps some of that down to earth humour he’s displayed in interviews, to see him through the crazed obsessive following he has acquired which I’m sure contributed to the end of the others. I feel sorry for these stars who have to put up with lunatics who can’t separate fantasy from reality. I admit to buying a vest with Robert Pattinson’s picture blazoned across it (hey, every girl should have one, and every woman too!) but it’s all tongue in cheek and an ode to someone who I think is cool. Do we really want to see a picture so badly of him in the newspaper that the press feel that they have to hound his every move? I think the media should leave him alone, let him breathe and let him retain a little bit of mystery which is what we really want.

I was reading through Douglas Coupland’s Polaroids from the Dead and he has an entry in this titled ‘Letter to Kurt Cobain’. It’s a written account of an ‘I remember where I was when I heard the news breaking ‘moment’’, when some major event occurs that leaves the world a little bit different for everyone, or for you personally. He describes the impact the news of Cobain’s death had on him and his friends.

I remember when I found out that River Phoenix had died. I was 13 and had picked up a magazine at a service station during a family trip somewhere. I don’t know if I found out about his death late (I wasn’t so switched on to the media at that age) as I can’t really think why we would have been on a family holiday around Halloween when he died. The magazine detailed that he had died outside the Viper Room in the early hours of Halloween and it was a suspected drug overdose. Double shock. He was dead. He took drugs? I remember feeling a great sense of sadness and loss that a star I was just discovering had died in such a horrible way.
Back in the car my brother made us listen to his REM cassettes for about the tenth time on the journey. It wasn’t until later that I learned Michael Stipe and River Phoneix were great friends. On the single sleeve for ‘E-bow the letter’ you can apparently see the words ‘For River’ in the driving mirror. REM’s 1994 album ‘Monster’ is also dedicated to River.
Stipe was also incidentally great friends with Kurt Cobain and Cobain died within 6 months of Phoenix. The song ‘Let me In’ was apparently written for both stars. So it seems quite fitting that I was sitting listening to REM five minutes after I found out about Phoenix’s death.

There are other connections between Cobain and Phoenix. Gus Van Sant shot an ode to Cobain after his death, titled, ‘Last Days’ and also directed Phoenix in ‘My Own Private Idaho’, (which could arguably have been titled Last Days also as it’s painfully clear to see this is where Phoenix must have embarked on some heavy drug experimentation). He was a great actor but there’s something unsettlingly incoherent about his performance in this film which makes you question his sobriety.

I once thought I was being haunted by Phoenix’s ghost; (I was about 16? And have an overactive imagination). A biography about his life kept falling off the shelf in my bedroom and I had a really strange dream where I was swimming through a river of rainbows and fish and felt his presence in the dream but never saw him.

So my advice to Robert Pattinson if he is reading this, (which of course he is, he is my biggest fan, can’t it be a two way street?) is to stay away from drugs, Gus Van Sant, method acting, Michael Stipe and loaded guns.
And keep doing what you’re doing; setting the screen on fire and creating that magic that should run on for at least another few generations to glimpse.

Festival

It's that time of year again when the crazies on the streets of Edinburgh turn their eccentricities into acts of entertainment and see an increase in their earnings. Only kidding, but you do have to wonder about some of the festival street acts...

Had a fun filled day on Saturday wandering around Edinburgh, getting a bit lost and marvelling at the explosion of wild enthusiasm and creativity that descends upon the city at this time of year. (The passengers on buses still looked a bit miserable and staid but their faces were lost in amongst the music and colour).

One act stood out for the sheer uninhibited manner in which they threw their bodies around the pavement, with the most ridiculously serious expressions on their faces. The dance moves I can only compare to that episode of Friends where Ross and Monica do their cringey new year dance; the facial expressions like Jack Black's in the opening dance sequence in Shallow Hal. I looked them up on youtube and it turns out not only do they dance, but sing (of sorts!). Check out The Young Dads if you fancy some light entertainment: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvNak51jY60&feature=related. I have Micha's number; he gave me and my friend this in case we could make it along to their show and wanted free tickets. I'm kind of disappointed we won't make it. He did an impressive ad lib rap about a monkey for us.

There are some cool little independent shops in Edinburgh, a much wider range than you would find in Glasgow. Two little great shops we chanced upon were Cookie and Pie in the Sky, which sell great retro clothes. I was muttering about how some of the little Indian type shops reminded me of Vancouver and then I came across a scarf I got from Vancouver. Weird!

A great cafe I would highly recommend is The Elephant House where J.K Rowling wrote most of Harry Potter. The toilet doors are full of odes to Potter such as RIP Dumbledore and Ron + Hermione forever. They do amazing cakes and teas. Don't let the queue at the door put you off (I think there's always probably a queue at the door) as it goes down surprisingly quickly and we managed to get a table.

I love browsing round market stalls and came across the most amazing bags at one stall. (I have a thing for bags and have lately thought it would be great to be able to make bags but I can't sew and don't know if I would enjoy learning. I have bad flashbacks to home economics in school where I managed to break one of the sturdy industrial sewing machines and my teacher despairing of me).
This is the website for The Beautiful Bag Lady:
http://www.thebeautifulbaglady.co.uk/index.html.
I love, love, love her bags! I bought one for a friend's birthday and am so glad I have found her site as I am sure I will be ordering a bag for myself soon...
The woman doing her selling on the stall asked if she could buy my necklace from me. I said no as I love it too much. (I bought the necklace last year in Edinburgh during festival time at another market stall). It was only a fiver but it is unique and I would never find anything like it again.

It was good having a change of scenery. Day trips outwith the local area are something I'm going to make an effort to do more of.

Up, up and away...

Thanks to my inventive brother a group of us spent a lovely day flying kites down in Largs on Saturday. Sunshine, sea breeze and a 50 foot chinese dragon to keep us amused.

There was something very relaxing about flying a kite, looking up at the sky and watching it...well, fly...sort of like meditating I would imagine. I've often tried to meditate but find it difficult to clear my mind. I think I probably have reached meditative states unintentionally, like during staff meetings at work when I can tune out quite easily and go into a trance like state.

More and more I like the idea of living by the sea. Having seagulls as neighbours isn't quite so appealing, though they seem to be a bit better behaved these days, and certainly much better behaved than my current neighbours.

I've had enough of looking at a computer screen for one day so that's all for now.