After successfully getting the caravan from Friday to Tuesday, and ripping out as much as I could of it, I came to a standstill last week - what did I do with all this stuff? I had a studio space full of dirty bits of caravan interior, and the only thing I could imagine doing with it was rebuilding it back in the shape of the caravan. My initial ideas were to rebuild the interior, with added seats and curtains and these "lived in" touches, and then project a Super 8 film onto the window. My main concern was that one of these peices would become redundant - that actually, I didn't need the interior if it just became a seating area for watching the film, or that I didn't need the film if the interior was far more exciting to the viewer. I also didn't just want an installation where the caravan became "twee", just a novelty, and that my ideas got lost in the setting up of an installation. After talking to both Louisa and Rory, I think my concerns were backed up, and that I could do so much more with this really exciting oppurtunity than just set it up again.

I think that really, this is the ideal oppurtunity to think about my audience, and how they will respond to the interior of the caravan. I have reservations about the word "installation" - it denotes to me the exact twee-ness that I am trying to avoid - I want the viewer to feel a disgust, a claustrophobia, the torment that I feel with caravans, and that is so often left out of happy holiday photos and films. I read a text from the brief, "But is it installation art?" by Claire Bishop in Tate etc. I liked the idea of the term "display" rather than installation; and also that a lot of artists don't like this term. I've also been reading a text in my image and culture elective relating to reception aesthetics and phenomenology that really interested me, and gave me insight into how a viewer puts themselves into a piece of work.

The image above is part of an installation "Hypnodreamduff" by Georgina Starr, set up in Tate Britain. The idea is very similar to my own, in that a film plays in the interior of a caravan and the viewer has to get into the caravan and experience this to view the film (which incidentally is set in the caravan the viewer is in) and complete the story. I think this example reiterates my feeling that if I play the film inside the caravan, the viewer doesn't take note of the interior and this is redundant. Starr's film is directly related to the interior, whereas mine wouldn't be so obvious.

I think for me, the strength in my work comes from the audience's interaction and direct contact with the work (as in my meat project) and my main interest lies in the physicality of the pieces of caravan - this is what I need to explore the most, and how the audience reacts to this.

Just thought I would do another blog on how my work is going in general, but also interestingly how I've found myself using the internet as more of a source for progressing my work.
I'll explain...last week, someone very kind on Freecycle (www.uk.freecycle.org) offered me a caravan in Harehills after I sent out a post asking if anyone had one, or any parts, I could have. I thought it would be a ridiculous thing to ask, but the worst that could happen would be the request went out into the vastness of the Freecycle network and never got seen again. Surprisingly, Shiela seemed very excited about the idea of getting it, so I continued to email the guy with the caravan asking details,etc. I then had to try and organise disposal of the caravan so looked on the Leeds council website about the logistics, the directgov website, and emailed some scrap metal dealers asking if they could take away the shell. This is where it comes to a bit of a stop, no one seems to want to take a caravan, which is a shame as I'm trying to do it as quickly as possible but unfortunately email isn't as quick at getting you an answer as phoning, so come Monday morning I will be ringing round more scrap metal dealers from the good old Yellow Pages. HOPEFULLY (and I really do hope) I will find a way of disposing of it, then can email the guy again to organise picking it up. The internet is a brilliant way of finding information, and networks such as Freecycle are really good for getting people communicating, but I've learnt if you want something doing quick, get on the phone!

Found out the name yesterday of the exhibition we are putting on in May. Is it just me that thinks that "dNA" is just a bit...hmm. For a start, I don't think a lot of people's work relates to the title, I have a feeling people will go in with the idea of DNA in their heads and be a bit bemused when work has nothing to do with science or medicine, and will they then try to find a connection to these topics even if the work obviously has nothing to do with those things? Also, "Dynamic New Artists" is ripping off yBA quite a lot, although their abbreviation worked better because it wasn't already a word. I just have the feeling we can come up with a much better name that can relate to everyones work without giving a false impression or trying too hard.
It got me thinking about how important it is to name a show correctly, something I hadn't really thought about before. But in a way, it is the name of a show which grabs your attention on the posters or the email, and it gives a summary of what to expect in a couple of words. In the recent PSL show, 195 Miles, the title was used because it was a factual reference - it was the distance between London and Leeds, between The Whitechapel Gallery and PSL, the actual distance between the two sets of artists who would be collaborating on one project. It could also be a metaphor for the differences between the two artists in each collaboration, which hopefully would come together within the work shown. It's interesting that the artists chose to change the title of the show (I think the fact it was an ongoing project meant they were able to) to "We All Have Our Limits", which sort of stood for what they had learnt throughout the collaborative process. Both these titles do little to explain what is expected in the work in the gallery, but are intruiging enough to make you want to go and see the show. I have a feeling the slightly arrogant "Dynamic New Artists" is going to put a lot of people off.
Also have been meaning to go and see the show at the Leeds Met Gallery, but I thought I could talk about the title and what I would expect just from this. "Perhaps Something, Perhaps Nothing" strikes me as an investigation-type of work, a question the artist asked themselves, or it could relate to how the work turned out. It is the sort of title that would sit very well with work like Richard Wentworth's or Martin Parr's, about ordinary things but an artistic eye delving into them. This title is intruiging, setting a relatively relaxed tone to the work inside. I will try and go as soon as possible and write again about what I actually found.
ps. Feel free to suggest any other names for the exhibition, I will start to have a think!

Went to two shows this weekend - one was the PSL closing party, then an impromtu hike to the Grand Theatre to see the last day of "Chorus".
PSL was really exciting, I think the idea of a closing show was particularly fitting when the artists are using the gallery itself to progress the work, and continue throughout the time the gallery is open, so in a way the closing show was probably more successful in showing the artists and their work than an opening (although it was a shame not to see the horse!). Thinking about Garry's point about how the space itself impacted on the work made, I have to say I thought the space was a really good one, it never felt too elitest, and I think this definitely came through in the work. It seemed a really relaxed exhibition, nothing seemed too precious, I don't know if this came about because of the collaborations, the artists themselves (a lot of ordinary objects used to different purpose) or the space, but it definitely felt like a London exhibition. Also very nice wine!
I really liked the fact no work had names to it but a map to guide you around, I think this helped the relaxed feel of the whole thing, and would be a really good idea for the "showing up" exhibition - names and titles next to work is a bit museum-y, the idea of a map made you find the work first then see who it was by (if of course you wanted to know). Also liked the temporary film room, made from straw, I think it became much more interesting to look inside.
After this was the much hyped about "Chorus" show at the Grand Theatre. I'd heard so many people saying it was amazing, I was a bit doubtful about whether it would be that good, but if you missed it, you really did miss out. It was the kind of artwork that made you sit and stare and listen; we stayed for at least 20 minutes. It was beautiful, almost religious in a way, I think aided by the space and the echoes it created, and everyone that was there seemed to be stunned in the same way. Really good, if a little hidden.