Why Can’t We Be Ourselves Like We Were Yesterday?

When I walked through the darkened entry door of Postmodernism: Style and Subversion 1970-1990 at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum last week, there were a few things I expected to find, and even to feel, when visiting the first major survey of the movement. A Michael Graves tea kettle, for example. Maybe an occasional twinge of repulsion as well. Postmodernism was, in a way, very reactive; surely not all of its expressions could hold up decades later. Add to the mix that no one seems to know how many more “post” prefixes to add on to accurately describe where we’ve philosophically been at in the last 10-20 years, and what I really expected was an almost indescribable suffocating nausea. I also expected that to fuel a good few conversations about why we, in a collective sense, seem to be struggling to throw over the weight of post-modernism (or post-post-modernism, or so on…) the way they had done with modernism, and just get on with it.

The last thing I expected was to be slapped in the face, almost immediately, with an overwhelming and incongruous sense of nostalgia. How on earth did that happen? Jenny Holzer’s Protect Me From What I Want never seemed so relevant…

In one way, I was relieved. That kind of reaction must really mean that post-modernism really is dead. The discussion is over. We are free. So why did I still feel such a sense of loss?

For one, the curation and exhibition design were excellent, and they knew what they were doing: throwing a funeral service. The low lighting, ostensibly to protect the objects exhibited, worked with the dark industrial display units to create an extremely somber atmosphere that at times created the perfect backdrop, by means of contrast, to postmodernism’s most colorful and playful moments. Pieces by early postmodernist Italian design group Memphis were among the works that looked more joyous for this context; the expected Michael Graves tea kettle, however, could have been an Egyptian relic in its low-lit vitrine.

Postmodernism covered a lot of ground, and the stand-out achievement of the exhibition was the successful transition between art, architecture, product design, film, fashion and, perhaps most importantly, music. Pop songs become siren songs, irresistibly pulling you around dark corners to discover the next chapter in Postmodernism’s story, and then decline. Indeed, the room on pop music seems to serve as the exhibition’s control room. Here costumes from Grace Jones, David Byrne, and Klaus Nomi are displayed at unnatural heights, elevating the characters they represent to a God-like status. If any doubt remains as to music’s importance in the exhibition’s narrative, that becomes as dead as the movement itself at the exhibition’s end. Staring at Andreas Gursky’s Tokyo Stock Exchange (1990), you’re pulled around one last corner, past a Robert Longo drawing, by the sound of New Order’s Bizarre Love Triangle. In this last dark room is the video Longo directed for the song, and it’s almost impossible not to see it as an epitaph for a movement that, at that time, was just beginning to crash under its own weight:

I feel fine and I feel good
I’m feeling like I never should
Whenever I get this way
I just don’t know what to say
Why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday

Far from its funeral service, London’s Bethnal Green is still just off average tourist’s radar. For a different London experience, base yourself at White Line Hotels edit Town Hall Hotel & Apartments.

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Contributing writer: Melissa Frost

Photos: Victoria & Albert Museum

Are you Frieze-ing?

You know it, I know it, but still no one says it very often: art fairs are terrible places to see art. The atmosphere is always…oh how best to say it…something like being on one of those black rubber people-mover conveyor belts designed to shuffle gawking masses past valuable items of interest and a pre-designated speed. Sounds fun, right? But, should it even be fun? I mean, art fairs are trade fairs, after all, and their purpose is for doing business. If sometimes that business can be done after hours at a party or bar too, all the better, but business is still the word of the day. And sales.

London’s Frieze Art Fair still hasn’t changed those final keywords of what the event is all about, but it has succeeded in presenting itself as just one part of a larger yearly cultural event through sidelines such as the TV-broadcasted Frieze Film, educational programs aimed at younger children, an off-site music program, and of course the on-site artists commissions and the Emdash Award (previously the Cartier Award). Past their own attempts to increase the scope of Frieze, the city’s galleries and artists don’t pass up the opportunity to make the most of the energy the fair brings in, and Frieze weekend sees some of London’s best exhibitions, and parties. Truth be told, unless you’re an industry professional, you don’t even have to step foot in Regent’s Park to get the most out of what the Frieze Art Fair has to offer.

If the business side of the art game leaves you cold or, shall we say “Frieze-ing”, here’s my top 5 off-site picks for the Frieze Art Fair. And guess what? For the first, you don’t even have to be in London.

LuckyPDF TV Ok, so this one is a half-cheat, because you can also go see the Peckham collective on set at the Frieze Art Fair, but you can also watch them live from your computer screen, anywhere in the world, from now until sunday at 4pm (London time). www.luckypdf.com

No Neutral Ground at the German Embassy (22 Belgrave Square) is something you might look over at first glance, but is worth the effort for Melanie Manchot’s Perfect Mountain. Here the German-born, London-based photographer has asked tourists atop an alpine glacier to don traditional costume, and pose in front of a backdrop of the mountain they are standing on. The next time a holiday seems surreal, remember Perfect Mountain. This one goes a bit longer — it’s on until October 20th.

Wilhelm Sasnal opens for Frieze weekend at the Whitechapel Gallery. Mixing a bit of art history with a bit of internet found imagery (think Roy Orbison meets Georges Seurat, and then a few more characters), even if the work isn’t so much your thing, the Whitechapel’s always worth checking out.

Sarah Lucas‘ Artist in Bed at St John Hotel (1 Leicester Square) has the easiest opening hours of anything this weekend: 7am until midnight (i.e., if  you miss this, you’re just lazy). The sculptures are installed in the bar, and there’s a good chance you’ll be somewhere near there at some point, so stop by for a drink and a viddy.

The Evening Before the Morning After: on the subject of bars, did you hear the one about the alcoholic artist? No, me neither… Mario Garcia Torres invited a selection of artists to send him their ideas for cocktails, recipe included, to be mixed at Bistrotheque on the 14th from 8pm. Consider it a homage to Gilbert & George, and critical commentary on the culture and expectation of artists and alcohol, and just a fantastic opportunity to imbibe some of the most creative cocktails you’ve seen.

Where else can you spend the evening before the morning after? White Line Hotels edit Town Hall Hotel and Apartments of course — whether for Viajante, or just for the cocktail bar.

Pandemonia – a self-made PR machine

A plastic, inflatable body. Shiny curves, long bouncy locks, a hint of a waste, and a conspicuous 7feet tall figure. This is how London based artist Pandemonia has marketed and branded herself, as a reflection of today’s consumerist society and unhealthy celebrity obsession.

Pandemonia was conceived in 2008, as an answer to the increasing amount of celebrity filled tabloids, though it wasn’t until 2009 that she  made her first public appearance. Within a short period of time and a few sightings at gallery openings and exhibitions, the self-made, eye-catching  personage began to receive invitations to the front rows of all the main London fashion shows.

Any questions about the person behind the mask are unimportant and  unnecessary. Everything there is to know is visibly displayed and appropriately labelled on the outside. Pandemonia has thus turned into the ultimate celebrity, unaffected by the imperfections of ageing celebrities and with complete control over the manufactured product that she intended to be.

Her birth could be read as a criticism, or perhaps ode, to today’s superficial society. Whereas once fame was the well-deserved result of a series of successful achievements, it is now clear that nowadays a glossy reconstruction of the unanimously approved, stick-long female figure is enough to get you noticed and praised.

Words are  unable to appropriately describe Pandemonia’s accurate reflection of today’s values. The rigid moral grounding that once formed the basis of our civilisation have been inflated and air brushed through Pandemonia’s latex outfits.

Are you headed to London this week for The Frieze Art Fair? Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of Pandemonia, and we’ll catch you at Town Hall Hotel and Apartments, White Line Hotels’ London edit.

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Contributing writer: Fier Management

Photos: Fier Management

Alex Mattson: extraterrestrial fashion

Born in 1984, Alex Mattson is the prime example of what our boundless and rootless generation has to offer. Half Swedish, half Colombian, he was brought up in Norway and is now based in London. He dreams of fantastical worlds and alternative realities, in which the coexistence of human races and extraterrestrial forms is a wearable reality. Alex developed an interest in fashion in his teenage years, reading fashion magazines,such as i-D and Dazed and Confused, and pondering over the possibility of being part of the exciting British creative scene. Not long after, in 2004, he moved to the UK to pursue a degree in fashion design at UCA Rochester, followed by an MA in menswear at the Royal College of Art.

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The Last Tuesday Society

After introducing our new Last Wednesday of the Month Architecture feature last week, we became aware of how many days become commemorated, or have some special ritual bestowed on them. Everyone knows that sometimes legend is better than the reality, sometimes they live up to being just as good as each other, and sometimes it’s just better not to care which is which. In the sense of the latter, London’s The Last Tuesday Society, which claims it is a ‘Pataphysical organization founded by William James at Harvard in the 1870s and currently run by it’s present directors, positions itself in a history with no traceable evidence of truth, but with all they’ve got to offer — balls, lectures, a shop/museum, and and art gallery — why bother caring?

Got a friend who’s impossible to shop for? Maybe your home decor leans to the macabre? Their Little Shop of Horrors might be exactly what you’re looking for. The impressive collection of oddities here also forms their museum and creates a unique atmosphere for the gallery space Viktor Wynd Fine Art Inc, currently featuring the work of Mervyn Peake and Meave Gilmore in celebration of Mervyn Peake’s centenary.

It’s probably safe to say that you won’t find anything quite like The Last Tuesday Society anywhere else. For another local original, take a short walk down Cambridge Heath Road to the Town Hall Hotel & Apartments, as chosen by the crew here at White Line Hotels.

images www.thelasttuesdaysociety.org