The seminar was about the relations between curators and artists, arranged by Ytter in collaboration with ART IST KUKU NU UT, with the speakers:

Rael Artel (curator and art historian/Estonia), Neringa Cerniauskaite (art critic, curator, and editor / Lithuania), Marie Nerland (curator and artist /Norway), Anders Härm (curator, art critic and museum director/Estonia), Ali MacGilp (curator and editor/Great Britain), Ytter (artist group and online art magazine/Norway)

The 15th and 16th of September Ytter arranged two conversations between Ytter and Steffen Håndlykken (artist and curator, Institute for Color and 1857/ Norway) Helen Tammemäe (editor of MÛÛRILETH, Estonian paper for arts and culture), Roberto N. Peyre (artist and curator, Blot and the exhibition XISM in Stockholm/ Sweden).

Little machines that do things in a gallery space wouldn’t normally hold my attention for very long. But it’s all about the context. And in this specific context the little machines are more than anything a vehicle to elaborate on some rather existential themes. The term decay has a slight biological, and therefore also a human, touch to it, unlike the more general entropy. However, both express the simple fact that all things we know about in the universe will come to an end; it’s just a matter of time.

Brandon La Belle’s Meditation on a Future Horizon, a workstation comprising videos, books and various traces of artistic investigation, appears to be a natural centre for all the other pieces to revolve around. It’s the largest and most complex work, and it’s not preoccupied with one specialised task, opposite most of the other works. An example of the latter is Pe Lang’s positioning systems – falling objects, which shows a simple but intriguing process. A pipette lays drops of water onto a surface in a square. It stops and waits for the time it takes for the water to evaporate, and then it starts over again. I imagine these introvert works would be less interesting on their own, but there is something about the combination of processes and especially the sounds they make. As I move about the sounds from the different instruments (that’s what several of the machines are, more than anything else, I realize) combine and take on a life of their own. When I don’t see the sources, the sounds automatically turn into things I know, heavy rain on a roof or gentle snoring. There is a leakage into this neat gallery-laboratory, from an outside world of weathering and erosion.

In Meditation on a Future Horizon, quotes from revolutionary literature are turned into poetry. Text lines are put through an altered musical box which «plays» the qoutes. The nostalgia, playfulness and unease all associated with the music box add to the ambiguity of the work. There is something very ritualistic about turning such loaded ideas into musical scores. Or childlike: Like putting things in your mouth and let them disintegrate in order to learn what they’re really like. It may be the only way.

MOLAF: Yes. We were in Berlin two summers ago, where we visited the Ramones Museum, which we were really taken by. We also had an experience visiting the tiny Theta Museum, here in Bergen, which is a tribute to the civil resistance in Bergen during WW2. So we started to get really interested in these very tiny museums, these labours of love that were dedicated to one very specific subject. They were usually operated by one or two people, concentrated on a particular theme that had a very specific interest. Ourselves we are often drawn to these poetic manifestations of people trying to reach out, or grow. Sometimes they achieve these extensions of themselves, but sometimes they fail, or can´t quite reach the space that they want to be in. We started to look for places where we could build the Museum of Longing and Failure, and found this place here in Møhlenpris which we thought would be perfect for our tiny museum, – across the road from the massive “Teknisk Museum”.

JLP: It´s quite existential.

MOLAF: Yes, the failures in life, art  and literature are existential in a way. We are always drawn towards these moments of longing and failure,– when those two moments connect. It´s something we´ve talked about for a long time. We also started to notice it in a lot of contemporary artwork, as well. There were a lot of artists who were interested in these kinds of themes.

JLP: How would you characterize that moment when these two emotions or experiences meet?

MOLAF: It´s a complicated space, because it has different degrees of intensity. Sometimes it can be really short and sweet, sometimes it´s more durational and happens over a longer period of time, so it can encompass someones whole life. It´s hard to put a couple of words to it, but in short, we feel that it’s characterized by the human impulse to carry on in the face of adversity. It´s more of an emotional space, which describes the longing and failure as supposed to a vocabulary. For this project, it´s been interesting to see how the different artists who collaborated with us have characterized that space.

JLP: I really like the hidden spaces and places around in the city, and the MOLAF seems to fit into that kind of context somehow. Do you have a feeling about whether it has become a curiosity in Møhlenpris?

MOLAF: We like that people have to search a little for it.

JLP: And you change the exhibitions every month?

MOLAF: Yes, every four or five weeks. It changes pretty quickly. It is really important to us that we don´t have openings or anything like that.

JLP:  Do you invite artists to exhibit based on the concept of the museum?

MOLAF: We commission artists to make new pieces for this space. We ask them if they are interested in making a very small piece for our museum, anything that is less than 20x20x20 cm. Apart from that we usually don´t have any further conversation about it.

JLP: It´s really interesting, because I am thinking about longing and failure, and I am thinking that the MOLAF is almost the opposite. It feels like it is very successful. It is a successful idea, because you are doing it, and because artists want to exhibit, and it works.

MOLAF: Yes, how can something that wants to fail succeed, in a way. The thing with failure, is that it´s not necessarily a negative thing. Samuel Beckett talks a lot about failure as the only real way to approach the world. To fail is to be human, in a way, and that we can look for these beautiful moments within that kind of failure as well.

JLP: It gives a lot of meaning with the Teknisk Museum as an opposite neighbour, which obviously has been longing and failing for a while. What makes the MOLAF interesting and successful is that you are using the platform and space that you already have, to make and show art.

MOLAF: Yes, what we see here at Teknisk Museum is more of like an abject failure, –total, pathetic failure. Wheras the MOLAF tends to embody a more poetic way of approaching the world, that´s not about a predetermined success.

JLP: You have been showing Canadian and Norwegian artists. Is that something that you are going to keep on doing?

MOLAF: We always make sure that we have two Norwegian artists in each show, because it is a Norwegian museum. As we are from Canada, we thought it would be nice to bring these two things together. But from next year we are thinking of broadening it up a bit, to more Nordic artists. We are going to Iceland and Denmark this year, and we have a Finnish artist showing in the MOLAF next month.

JLP: Do the artists give you their work for the MOLAF to keep?

MOLAF: The artists are commissioned by us, so they give us the work to keep. We are planning on showing the pieces again and again, as the space grows, as well as collaborating with other places to show. The plan is to do two years of programming here at the MOLAF in Møhlenpris, and then put out a volume of the archive.

JLP: Could you talk about the exhibition that is here now?

MOLAF: There are four pieces showing together. Jason de Haan, who has been has been working with the idea that if you put a gold band over a tree,–over time the tree will envelop the gold ring as it grows out. His sculpture Future Future Age is a petrified piece of wood. It feels like stone, and it has a gold inlay, which creates that ring.
The piece next to it is Elizabeth Zvonar, a Canadian artist. Her piece Hills are her casted heels. Moving down is Stein Rønning, a Norwegian artist. Small Fold for Storms gate ,– if you know his work, it´s very much a Stein Rønning kind of piece.

JLP: I´ve only ever seen pictures of his work, but he often exhibits pictures of his work, doesn´t he?

MOLAF: He does. He has actually asked us, that once this is done we only ever show a photograph of this in the future. The last piece is made by an Oslo–based duo, Lello//Arnell. The piece is titled Critical Failure (The End of Physics) . It´s a collapsed Newtons cradle. It´s amazing how well the pieces all work together, without us matching them up. We feel that every show has this very particular kind of connection between the works.

The MOLAF is initiated and run by Canadian artists Chloe Lewis and Andrew Taggart, who are currently based in Bergen, Norway.

http://natland-sb-outdoor.blogspot.com/search/label/manifest%207

http://natland-sb-outdoor.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-06-15T06%3A09%3A00%2B02%3A00&max-results=25

The second part of the much anticipated Bergen Biennale II will take place at The Woodmill, London’s newest and freshest artist-run gallery including sets by comedian Chris Boyd (London), The Invisible Bees (London), Karen Skog Orkestra and her own-made instruments (Bergen), an afternoon of haircuts with Miss B’s Hair Salon (London), as well as the much-anticipated premiere of the feature-length film, ‘The Road to Margaritaville,’ by Jason Underhill (Los Angeles). A communal, artist-made dinner for 40 and director’s talk by Jason Underhill must not be missed as a prelude to the screening.

Ytter and Gandt come together as a naturally evolved but pivotal crux in the visioning of The Bergen Biennale 2010, a one-night stand with two days of consequences. Come experience both an exciting international program, and the dynamic art scene of London – “the old town with a young mind.”
——————————–
19-21 November 2010
Opening 19:00, Friday, 19 November
The Woodmill
Neckinger Depot
London SE16 3QN
See www.woodmill.org for details of each event and to book a place for dinner.
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Friday 19th Nov:
Exhibition in the Hangar and the Gallery open from 7pm
Patrick Coyle 7 – 9pm
Chris Boyd 7 – 8.30pm
P.A.S.T Projects Reading: Gandt reads The New No 7.30pm
Invisible Bees 9 – 9.30pm
Karen Skog Orkestra 8.30 – 9pm
After party in the Dicken’s Club 9.30 – 12pm
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Saturday 20th Nov
P.A.S.T Projects Reading: Anngjerd Rustand 3 – 4pm
Jason Underhill’s Curated Film Screenings 4 – 5pm
Karen Nikgol’s ‘Total Recall 2’ 5 – 6pm
Dinner 6 – 8pm (see website to RSVP)
Premiere of ‘The Road To Margaritaville’ by Jason Underhill with comments from the director 8 – 9.30pm
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Sunday 21th Nov
Miss B’s Hair Salon 2 – 3pm
P.A.S.T Projects Reading: Sophie Risner, Simon Clark, Gandt 3 – 4pm
Jason Underhill’s Curated Film Screenings 4 – 5pm
Closing Party 5 – 7pm

I forbindelse med biennalekonferansen i Bergen gir Ctrl+Z Publishing ut boka Lokalisert, eller Localised som den heter hvis man begynner å lese bakfra (eller forfra, alt ettersom). Gå ikke glipp av lansering på Hordaland Kunstsenter førstkommende fredag (9/11) kl. 20.

Mer om utgivelsen er å finne på på Ctrl+Zs webside.
Ytterredaksjonens bidrag til boka er også lagt ut her.

Tekst: Anne Marthe Dyvi
It takes time to understand an art institution. And parts of the art institution tend to be a bit anonymous. For instance the Fellow Researchers. What do they do?
I know of the description done by the institution, and by The National Norwegian Artistic Research Fellowships Programme. But I wanted to know what it is like from the inside.
What is artistic research? What does a Fellow Researcher do?
Pedro Gómez-Egaña is a researcher in art at Bergen National Academy of the Arts, and he has kindly answered some of my questions.

How is the everyday for a researcher? And how does it differ from your everyday as an artist?

It isn’t very different to what I’ve been doing for some years now. My practice often seems to have an academic setting, and, even when I am not a student or researcher, I seem to try to establish some sort of a reflective environment from which to operate. But then again, I think that there is generally a misconception when it comes to what research in the arts means. People think that being a researcher means that you are reading and writing all the time, doing  things different to making art itself. This tension between a student’s idea of what art-making is and his/her idea of what research is seems to be present all the time in academic environments lately.

When this question comes up I tend to focus on how things like «text» or «reflection» appear within my practice already, so that research is revealed rather than summoned. So that I don’t feel like I have to take some model and adapt my process to it.

How do you see the idea of research being presented by this programme?

The thing with “research” is that the term appeared from an academic institution standpoint, not necessarily from an artistic one. Research has become a key way for art to be part of the university universe. It is a tool that provides accountability, a way for artistic process to be accepted as a tangible product of knowledge, and to make it work with the mechanics and bureaucracies of an institution.In a way this is cool because it means that artists may have other ways of finding sources and resources (an academic status often leads to better pay when you teach, and/or more project funding, etc), but I do think that it becomes problematic when research is presented as the only way to legitimise art practices in the Academy. That art is only of a high standard if it is encapsulated in some sort of research context. It’s a similar problem with the gallery-based art market, there is this absurd assumption that selling a lot means that you are a good artist.

In any case, each research programme has its own particularities. The one I am in now uses the notion of Critical Reflection as one of its main paradigms. I translate that to an exercise in which I evidence my process and the connections that appear around and through it. I write about it, I write in my work a lot anyway so it’s not so different to just doing my thing. The programme also has strategies for motivating us to reflect and share the state of  our work, like asking us to do presentations. There is a main platform for this, a seminar where we give presentations and engage in discussions with out colleagues.

Who is your audience at the seminars and presentations organised by the research programme? And how do they relate to your work?

There are bi-annual seminars with everyone who is a part of the programme: the fellows from all the different disciplines (music, theatre, arts, etc), their supervisors, the steering committee of the programme and some guests. It’s a very nice idea to bring a lot of people together under the umbrella of an interdisciplinary research programme, which was one of the reasons that I was attracted to this programme. But at the same time, there is something about the way that these seminars get executed that I don’t find so useful. I mean, it is extremely well organised, and it is very generous in terms of the idea of concentrating everyone in a place where they can focus. But both times I’ve been to this seminar I end up with a feeling that nothing was really covered. The time is so limited and the agenda is so full that it is impossible to reach any substantial depth with any of the projects. It is more or less based on an immediate response to someone’s presentation. And since art practices are so layered and complicated, and since research projects are so specific, it is hard to assume that 45 minutes will allow for any kind of discussion that can really touch up on important things. The other thing is that the discussion groups are indeed interdisciplinary and it means that the theoretical language is not always compatible. I guess you need time and a more constant dialogue with people from different reflective worlds in order to make these discussions substantial. You need to establish a common ground before opinions are significant, and that takes a while.

I think that the best way to have these kinds of meetings is to use the tutorial format, you know, one on one. Or a small group of people who follow you through. This is the kind of set-up I am trying to aim for in my project. It makes sense to have follow-ups.

The other problem with these seminars is that some of the questions are very product-oriented. Questions related to what you will end up with, and even to how you might use the money. And then it feels like they just want to hear that you have a structure and a plan for spending the funds…

So it helps to show the Programme that your research has a structure, for them to have trust in your way of working?

Yes, it makes sense doesn’t it? For them to make sure you are working and developing what you said you would do. Ultimately, to show that you’re using the institutional support and the funds they give as well as possible. But this simple idea can be difficult to realise. I believe that in art projects structure isn’t found, it appears. It is in the midst of experimentation or whatever operation you engage with, that you find a need to either make a video or make an installation, to buy a little motor or to hire a huge truck. And these decisions can really only happen when you are immersed in the process. So it is very difficult to generate a reliable structure beforehand, especially when funds depend from it. It is very similar to what happens when you apply for a more conventional grant, you need to come up with ways to show that you will spend the money in a structured way.  A good percentage of the approval of a grant lies in this ability to show a proper spending of the funds offered. So everyone just tries to come up with approximations that are usually an equation between what the institution seems to be willing to give, and an ideal amount for you. This is how grant applications work for artists. The revolutionary thing about these research programmes should perhaps be to break free from that model.  That after an eight–month selection process in which every bit of your artistic and professional life has been evaluated and approved, you just get carte blanche. And that means that you find, along with your supervisors, ways to evaluate the project based on its own terms.

But so far, at least for me in my first year, showing a structure—financial and operational—seems like an important thing to deliver.  Another difficulty in this fellowship is that the administrative nature of it makes this structuring very tricky. What I mean is that the programme works through the different institutions involved. So, for instance, there are policies from the programme in relation to spending and budgeting, and then the funds go through KHIB where there are also a whole host of policies, procedures and rhythms, and then each project has its own way of finding a structure as I said before. So much gets tangled and confused in this three–way administration.

How does being part of, and being present in the institution inflect your work?

Bergen National Academy of the Arts (KHIB) is especially good at making life easy. And I come from other institutions where you can really see how it can be difficult to administrate a place for artistic work. I really like the trust that KHIB the institution gives to their staff; there is an administration that seems to  understand the nature of contemporary art practices and doesn’t really force us to make projects that are easy on the operative side. . What is difficult to deal with for me, as I explain above, is that I have one project within two institutions. But I love that KHIB seems to have an attitude of «what’s important is that you do your project the best you can».

It is reassuring, and it allows for a good working environment where you feel that we are all trying to actively understand how art fits in with all this institutional stuff. It feels like being part of a team that is asking a question, rather than being trapped in a bureaucratic machine.

What is the purpose of your research? Both from a personal aspect, but also from the view of the institution, or society as a general?

The purpose of my research is to make better work, to be able to focus on specific notions that are present in my work and to have resources and a network that allows for this focus to develop as effectively as possible. And also to question my artistic practice as much as possible without it meaning a breakdown in my career.

As far as the importance of research in a society, if we define research as the academic space where teachers can be dedicated to making new connections between the information and ideas available, then I think that it is an absolute necessity for institutions to have them. I know of universities where a teacher’s work would be divided between a percentage of teaching time and a percentage of administrative work. This kind of approach to university staff renders their teachers irrelevant very quickly. And as universities become more and more businesses for making money from students—as is the trend right now—then this kind of intellectual stifling will become more prominent. This is why I totally support research initiatives. I do emphatically believe in institutions actively making spaces for their members to exercise their own operations, you can call it research, or art practice, philosophical endeavour, scientific dwelling, or whatever.

Do you see your research as something that can be used by for example MA- students  and others in the same way that theoretical or scientifically thesis is used to build upon in an educational context?

Absolutely. As I said before, it is a different way of connecting information, and as such students and other people can benefit. I think it is always very interesting to see an archive, texts or documentations of someone who is totally enveloped in a very specific topic, you know?  I think it could be interesting for someone to see what I have chosen to concentrate on — the exploration of motion and accidents—accumulate in the three years of work.

I think it will be interesting for people to see a kind of map made out of works of art, but also with other references, writings, images, etc.

So you are not limited by one form, like having to write one book, or to make one piece within the programme?

No, and that’s great. It makes sense for artists to be able to present their reflections in ways other than a thesis model. It makes it difficult perhaps because, as I said, research has a legitimising tension, there is a pressure to prove a rigour, and then the scientific model seems a strategically sound option. But in principle I like the challenge of trying to stay in the field of art even if we all know that the only reason that this «critical reflection» exists as a requirement is because it is the only way to make art exist in the University.

But it seems you have an open-minded relation to what kind of tools you will use to present the final result?

Yes. Now I am trying to circle in the areas I am covering, and choose were to go deep, but I do not know what format it could take at this time. I am getting very interested in lecture-performances, precisely because they inhabit that space between the discursive and the poetic, I guess.

Can you say something more about your expectations from the programme?

A lot of my expectations from this fellowship have been met.

I have worked very much this past year and I have done it in a way that would have been impossible otherwise. Basically everything you may hear as a rumour is true: the money is great, the spaces are usually great, and the disposition of the programme is fantastic. It is a young programme that is virtuosic in its operation and always open to change. The best thing is that I find the programme leadership to be both confident and self-critical. That’s to me translates to a promising future for this fellowship scheme.

If I had to express a particular unmet expectation,  I would have to say that it has to do with the artistic input initiated by the programme itself. I expected to find a better and more active search for people who are working in the art fields right now and who might have a say in our work, not in the world of academic research, but in the world of art. I would love it if the programme arranged for top–notch art practitioners from all over the world to come form time to time and check us out, do studio visits or give in-depth lectures about problems of contemporary art. I think that there could even be strategic relations with places like OCA, Bergen Kunsthall or other international programmes whose aim is to have the «finger on the pulse» of the art world so that we expand the network and exposure that we bring to the fellowship. The programme is very emphatic on us having an international level, and many of us do have an international network, but it would be great if the network the programme supports itself with, was not so insular.

More about Artistic Research in Norway:
http://kunststipendiat.no
http://khib.no/khib/KU-FoU/Stipendprogrammet

Pedro’s website: http://www.pedrogomezegana.com

Text: Anne Marthe Dyvi

JLP: Could you explain the starting point of the GI festival, such as who initiated it, on what background, and what were the strategies to make it become successful?

FM: GI grew out of the Glasgow Art Fair, – an annual fair in the city around April which predominately sells traditional paintings, nothing contemporary or that would be recognized as such in the contemporary art world. The organisers of the art fair thought it would be good to start a small associated festival that would encourage the visitors of the fair to go to the local galleries and museums as well. I was hired as a freelance curator and given the job of creating the first festival. It was clear to me though that the contemporary art community in the city and the various galleries such as Transmission, The Modern Institute etc wouldn’t want to take part if it followed the pattern of the Art Fair. I instituted a policy which said that everything would be curated and I cut the link to the art fair, creating separate marketing, brochures, posters etc. Galleries could only take part if I invited them to be in the festival and proposals could be submitted but could only happen if I permitted them. This ensured that there was a standard for the work from the beginning. For me, the art fair had failed to gain contemporary art credibility by diluting the mixture of galleries and levels of art. If everyone could see there was a clear standard being set then the best local groups and organisations would be willing to take part.

The other key decision was to then give the local galleries and groups funds to spend on their own projects. They would submit proposals and then they would receive funds directly to go ahead and curate those projects. The key curatorial decision for me then was to select the organisations and proposals that would be in the festival. After that many of them would be curated separately. I was relying on the fact that it was those galleries like Tranmission, Modern Institute, Sorcha Dallas, Mary Mary and others that had created a reputation for Glasgow in the first place. It seemed to make sense to draw on their strengths and showcase what they normally do rather than take everything over and drop projects into their spaces. Supporting their proposals also meant they felt more ownership over the festival and wanted it to work.

JLP: How did you as the director define your relationship between working with artists involved versus working with sponsors, decision-makers, politicians in the council, etc?

FM: Two very different experiences. While you always find some politicians, funders or decision-makers who like art you also have to deal with a majority who don’t know much about it. Working with this sector you have to remember that their interests are different and that is not necessarily a negative thing. The city council for instance wants a festival that is good for the city’s economy and also good for its cultural image. Its about bringing visitors to the city who spend money and creating a reputation for the city as a cultural centre as well as commissioning new art. That’s all to be expected – a council generally thinks of the city’s economy and wants to invest in it, especially in a city like Glasgow where something has to replace lost industry and jobs. As long as you can recognize this and create a festival that meets those needs as well as remaining credible as an arts festival that’s not a problem. I was lucky in Glasgow as the council has been working like this for some time. They are now quite sophisticated in their approach to the arts and mostly they realize that it’s best not to interfere, recognizing that the various organisations and artists in the city have gained an international reputation for their work. I found a lot of support among funders who gave me great freedom to programme what I wanted and let me organize the festival as I wanted. This allowed me to build a model based on grassroots organisations and groups in the city, creating a very different feeling from more ‘glossy’ festivals. Even when I ran risks – a dangerous high wire walk, controversy over various works – the council remained supportive and understood that the audience was mature enough to cope with such things. That support was crucial. Working with artists was very different. It was important to distance them from the bureaucracy of dealing with funders and councils and to focus on the commissioning of art and supporting that process. To bring that bureaucratic language to the art community would have killed the spirit of the festival. At the same time, the bringing together of so many organisations did allow the art community to see just how large it was and to discover corners of their world that even they did not know about. Art is tribal in Glasgow and so many organisations didn’t have contact before the festival and I think it helped make everyone more aware of each other. It also allowed several organisations to see the possibility to grow and become more established. Basically, though, art has to be the focus of everything when talking to the art community, the curator/director’s job is to shoulder the administration and leave artists free to concentrate on work.

JLP: Do all of these parties have the same goal for the festival, do you think?

FM: Not necessarily. The city’s policy of creating a ‘creative community’ is very much influenced by the ideas of Richard Florida in the ‘90s and at times can come close to instrumentalising art, employing it as a tool of urban regeneration. Many cities have taken this approach. Arts organisations do see the advantages of some of this too – I think, for instance, it also benefits the commercial galleries to have the city promoting the artistic and cultural profile of Glasgow if it’s done well. Artists personally are less interested in this and find themselves occasionally at the mercy of the process – as areas become more popular they are moved on to another less well off district. Or in Glasgow’s case, the creation of a ‘cultural quarter’, which redevelops artistic spaces, is greeted with some ambiguity as the upgrading also raises fears of homogenization of the arts scene. It’s important to recognize that everyone looks at a biennale selfishly – the improvement of the city’s cultural profile for the council, the acceleration of momentum for private galleries, the kudos of high profile shows for curators and the international exposure and commissions for artists. That can all be harnessed to create a successful biennale though that doesn’t have to be a commercial orgy!

JLP: Do you feel that you get a balance between the art community in Glasgow and the international art scene?

FM:I think that the last GI did do that. The first two were on much smaller budgets so there was an attempt to represent the international scene through works that could be introduced to the UK for the first time. As they were annual festival with a smaller budget there wasn’t time or money to commission larger scale works from international artists as typically there was six months between commissioning and opening the festival. It’s important to remember though that a significant number of artists with an international reputation live in Glasgow itself – perhaps a larger number than a city of that size should be able to claim. There is a very large artistic community (with a very international mix in its population) and the city punches above its weight in that regard. With the move to bi-annual festivals and a significant funding increase it became possible to credibly commission art from the best known artists.

JLP: What ideas do you have about the biennale concept, e.g. how broad, open, new, bold or how controlled, curated and safe?

FM: Personally I have favoured a very broad and open approach with a very loose curatorial style. I think this is not very often used because reputations are more easily built on total control and curatorial branding. I don’t think Glasgow would take too kindly to this approach however – it is founded on independent movements and communal actions. Moreover, the curatorial brand model is tired and redundant – even more so in the post economic crash of the art world. There is an opportunity now to rethink the biennale model radically. In fact this is more than an ‘opportunity’. I think it is a necessity if something viable is to emerge. The old models don’t work any more.

JLP: How involved are local artists in the festival?

FM: Local artists have been very involved – their commitment to the festival is one of the reasons for its success and for its different ambiance. If that is lost then the festival becomes an alien thing that will be rejected by the art community and the city.

JLP: How is the cooperation around decision-making within the process of what is a successful biennale? What are the “criteria” for this success? What is your advice?

FM: I think the criteria may be different for each festival. What works in Glasgow doesn’t work for Venice, Liverpool or Sao Paolo. I think open minded, supportive and imaginative funders can help enormously. It also helps if they allow the creative directors freedom to follow their vision. Each biennale has to look to its own circumstances to see what it can create that justifies its existence. This is particularly important in more marginal cities such as Glasgow. Why should a visitor go that extra distance to see artists and work that could be seen in London, Berlin or New York. For marginal places the answer is often in the local ambiance – the extra bonus of the culture surrounding the exhibition which is different from the homogenized feeling of larger cosmopolitan cities. Equally, a fresh approach to the presentation of contemporary art can be the justification. So many exhibitions, art fairs and biennales are stale repetitions of tired formulas. The art world is very fashion conscious and, paradoxically, this can make it very conservative. Everyone wants the tried and tested product because they want to be seen to make the right choices. This makes many organisers afraid to be different. It is also useful to remember that biennales are often mass events and although they have to attract the international art world’s attention on the opening days, they also have to appeal to a broader public throughout the remainder of their run. That doesn’t have to mean compromise but it does have implications in the way in which the biennale is talked about. Language from the extremes of theory, for instance, can be off-putting and incomprehensible to the majority of art visitors but then, anyone intelligent enough to understand that theory should be intelligent enough to make it comprehensible to a wider audience…

JLP: How have you been successful in continuing the festival- why have you decided to have a biennale, and does the biennale construct an identity for Glasgow?

FM: The festival has been successful because the art community and the funders have all given it their blessing and they all agree it works. I argue below that Glasgow’s biennale works because it is more than city branding – there is a vital, large, arts community that is producing significant work that is recognised internationally. The funders, of course, see the various economic and city branding opportunities but they are sophisticated enough to let the festival develop in its own way and not to force its direction. Equally, visitors sense that the festival is built on genuine local activity and the claims for artistic activity in the city are not exaggerated. That makes it credible amidst a stream of artificially induced biennales across the world.

JLP: What is the gain for the art community in Glasgow?

Francis: The art community which works so hard all year round, gets a platform to present itself to an international audience and, hopefully, with additional funds to be more ambitious in its presentation. There is also a vital networking opportunity as the arts council invites a series of international curators to visit Scotland during the festival – so local artists, whether they’re in the festival or not, have an opportunity to present their work to curators and the curators have a chance to get to know some of the art landscape of Scotland.

JLP: Why does it work for Glasgow to have a biennale?

Francis: That’s a question that has to be asked at regular intervals – I don’t think any event can assume it remains relevant. If it can regularly answer the question in the positive then it can continue (Edinburgh arts festival, for instance, has changed its function dramatically from its original form and it arguably exists for different (but good) reasons now).

I think at the moment Glasgow has such a large and active arts community (and so many of them internationally recognized) it makes sense to celebrate the activity in the city. I think Glasgow has the largest visual arts community outside London and perhaps a closer knit community than London itself. That creates a great sense of common purpose and it provides a great basis for a festival – there is something genuine to celebrate at the moment rather than creating a biennale just for the sake of city branding.

JLP: What is a successful biennale do you think?

Francis: A biennale that exists for a genuine purpose can be successful. It needs to know what it wants to achieve and there needs to be a good reason for its existence. If its simply inspired by a desire to look chic or to compete with other cities, it can quickly look shallow and visitors can spot this easily. A biennale is really a celebration so there needs to be a genuine reason to celebrate. It doesn’t always need to be based on local, geographical, arguments – Venice Biennale doesn’t work because there is a great local community of artists, in fact everything about Venice should work against a festival as it is a logistical nightmare. But it provides a unique backdrop and culture that gives it character. Other festivals in some cities seem nothing more than an event promoted cynically by a conglomerate of local commercial interests.

Interview by Julie Lillelien Porter

wood, plexiglass, 2009

Monument to a man who survived a nine-storey fall in his underwear
after attempting to build a bridge into his neighbour´s apartment

wood, plexiglass, 2009


Two Black Holes with Feather Duster

Wood, paint, leather, feathers, 2008

Drinking table for Franz Kafka, circa 1923

Wood, glass, beer, 2009

Device for Becoming One with the Sun

Nylon, polyester, 2009

More works at www.lewisandtaggart.com

Photos by Anngjerd Rustand