jmcenquiry

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“The culminating developments of the capitalist globalisation will be the terror-sublime of the next fifty years. With rue in my heart, I leave it to my children to experience.” -Thomas McEvilley (2001)

Four works were produced that, combined with a large mixed media painting from Divergent Practice, formed an installation concerning the Capitalist Sublime.   As the viewer approaches the piece, in the background the large dark painting conveys the void of Cotán’s work.  But as this still life is produced as a 3D work, when viewed from the other side the void is replaced by the sight of everyday, disinterested, mundane life that normalises the symbolism of the ceramic pieces.  The film, shown in widescreen but vertically rather than horizontally, repeats the view of the ceramic hands with the bitumen dripping relentlessly in slow motion, alternating between daylight and night, but never stopping.  This is true also of the sound, which rises from the floor as the viewer enters the installation.  An ominous, machine like drone which continuously repeats with small interludes of respite before returning louder.  Opposite the screen the text, a subversion of quote by Marx, becomes a stark demand, or possibly a capitalist mantra.  Moving on, the large painting is intended to offer the chance for the viewer to reflect and question for a moment, before they must turn and return to reality once more.

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Bitumen paint and turpentine on paper

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BILL VIOLA: INSTALLATIONS AND VIDEOTAPES THE POETICS OF LIGHT AND TIME

Viola reached a new level with Room for St. John of the Cross (1983), in which he metaphorically depicts the interchangeability of the subconscious with the conscious. Room for St. John of the Cross is dedicated to the sixteenth-century mystical Spanish poet who was a follower of St. Theresa, the radical Catholic prioress who sought to return the Carmelite order to austerity, prayer, and contemplation. For six months in 1577, when St. John was confined to a miniscule, windowless prison cell and regularly tortured for his heretical beliefs, he composed his ecstatic poetry, which repeatedly speaks of profound love and nature. St. John and his poetry are reference points for Viola's dramatic metaphor about solitude and anguish being valuable sources of strength. Unlike the always-changing external world, the rich, internal realm is always there, becoming more accessible with curtailed physical activity and heightened concentration.

The work occupies a dark 30-by-40 foot room, and contains two forceful images. One is a large, grainy, black-and-white videotape of the craggy, snow-covered Sierra mountains projected onto the wall opposite the entrance. Shot with a hand-held camera and telephoto lens from a moving car, the jerky movements of the tape become dizzily exaggerated in projection. The space reverberates with the abrasive sounds of wind against the microphone during the recording. The other image is sculptural. Near the middle of the room is a tangible but inaccessible 5-by-5-by-6-foot dirt-floor cubicle. Visible only through its small, glowing window is a well-lit interior tableau: on top of a tiny wooden table sits a metal pitcher, a glass of water, and a miniature television monitor. On the screen is a small, clear video image of a verdant mountain range, shot in long still takes with a stationary camera on a tripod. A ghostly human presence permeates the empty cell in the form of the barely audible poetry, gently whispered in Spanish, of St. John. Tension is established between the intangibility and temporality of the video, sound, and light, and the materiality of the room with the contents of the carefully placed cell. As the center of attention the pitcher and water glass assume significance and seem to resonate with energy.

St. John of the Cross is a cumulative experience: temporal like the theater, the whole cannot be grasped in one instant; and multidimensional like sculpture, the work cannot be seen from just one spot. It contains contrasting concepts of time: the past, which is recalled through a specific period in St. John's life; the present, with the viewer interacting with Viola's prepared environment; and an eternal timelessness, which is reflected in nature's ahistorical, regenerative cycles and the unchanging mountain. The most important place his work exists is in the memory of the viewer, where time becomes more fluid and blends with the imagination. - Barbara London

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“Reason is something the world must obtain whether it wants it or not” - Karl Marx

This was the title of the work in the Russian pavilion at the 1995 Venice Biennale

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Vinyl Lettering for text-based artwork

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Video sketch - day and night

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Sound work sketch

The mechanical noise of the studio windows was recorded, then slowed down to various speeds and re-recorded with audio filters

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Video sketch shot at night

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Video sketch