An after-hours celebration of Liverpool’s cultural offering, we can’t think of a better way to round off Light Night than with a carefully curated afterparty…

It’s another big night in the cultural calendar this evening with venues and galleries opening their doors after-hours for Light Night 2013. But this being a Friday an’ all, all of that art is only part of the equation.

Join us at Static Gallery for the Light Night Afterparty to end all afterparties! A co-production of The Double Negative and experimental music-inspired agency Deep Hedonia, we’ve programmed an evening of DJs, film (amid an installation) and karaoke. Yes, karaoke, but with a twist.

Up in the bar, Deep Hedonia pays tribute to the art of karaoke and individual song perception with interactive installation Ken Lee’s Karaoke (check THIS out). A selection of karaoke ‘classics’ will be reinterpreted through wordplay and poor Youtube transcriptions to provide alternate lyrics for Light Night’s late crowd to party and sing along to. Alongside the dizzying and brilliantly misleading glitched-up party hits, we have a special selection of DJs to keep the party atmosphere going…

We’re proud to present Julian Shepherd, a serial groove nerd likely to play anything and everything across the spectrum, from unreleased bits “from some friends of mine” to throwback 80′s funk, experimental abstract things, acid, Balearic and Lady Blacktronica; emerging artist AKASA, exploring “a range analogue production techniques to create infectious electronic”; GT, AKA many things, including Golden Vampire #13, will be playing a selection of italo, space disco and hi-NRG electronic disco classics, while producer Tomasu – he’s so hot right now – will be bringing a selection of deep house, trance and electronica tracks. And of course, a whole selection of trance, dance, RnB, trap, house and grime from Deep Hedonia DJs.

Down in the gallery space, Laura and Mike TDN showcase some of their favourite – occasionally innovative – party-inspired short films, music videos and documentaries, featuring local filmmakers, home video footage, abstract artists and pop-culture ephemera from all quarters. This will all be amid an installation piece, which we’ll keep tight-lipped about for now. Don’t wanna spoil anything. All we’re prepared to say is: CAR ON THE DANCE FLOOR (it’s got its own hash-tag and everything).

Expect familiar – as well as some not so familiar examples – from the likes of Michel Gondry, Spike Jonze, the Beastie Boys and Sonic Youth, alongside under-the-radar offerings from Alan Williams, Max Hattler and Mikey Please. It all makes for a party-orientated pop-culture mash-up the likes of which have rarely been seen.

All that before we even mention the full bar. See you there?

Memory Lame: A Proper Light Night Afterparty 8pm ’til late @ Static Gallery

Ahead of the launch of international photography festival LOOK/13, Stephanie Kehoe picks her best of the fest…

From Friday 17^th May, Liverpool will call itself home to the international photography festival, LOOK/13. Spread across a host of institutions within the city centre, the Look festival challenges visitors – through the medium of photography – on their perceptions of identity, getting to grips with the question which confronts us all: “who do you think you are?”

After the success of the LOOK/11 festival, the organisation has returned bigger and better, biennial-fashion, to showcase a diverse line-up of photographers from across the globe, as well as locally, to reflect on the theme. The range of exhibitions, screenings, workshops, talks and tours means visitors are spoilt for choice.

Featuring at the Bluecoat, I Exist (In Some Way) contains works by various international photographers who are currently active within the contemporary Arabic scene.  Providing some context with a curator and artist led talk is Sara-Jayne Parsons, exhibition curator at the Bluecoat, who is joined by one of the featured artists, Laura El-Tantawy on Sunday the 19^th of May.

Taking a historical perspective on how identity is a constantly changing idea, and running in parallel to I Exist (In Some Way), is a retrospective of two globally infamous photographers: August Sander and Arthur Fellig. With Sander’s documentation of Germany in the 1920s and ‘30s, alongside Fellig’s photography of 1930s and ‘40s New York, we are given a first-hand point of view of two opposing nations and how their identities contrasted during these uncertain points in their histories.

Bearing in mind Liverpool’s cultural and economic upheavals within the past century, the Walker features two of Merseyside’s most influential photographers, who documented Liverpool and its surrounding areas during the 1970s and 80s. Providing an insight into how the city looked and thrived nearly half a century ago, before the decline of the formerly world-renowned working docks, Martin Parr and Tom Wood appear together in a project titled Every Man and Woman is a Star.

Speaking of the docks, the North West’s only dedicated photography gallery, Open Eye (located next to the river in Mann Island), showcases two photographers exploring the theme of searching for identity on a global scale. French photographer Charles Fréger will be exhibiting a project titled The Wild and the Wise. Visually interrogating the relationship between cultural identities, Fréger juxtaposes them against diverse cultural stereotypes.

The gallery is also exhibiting Drape, by Eva Stenram. In an interesting comparison to Charles Fréger’s project, which concentrates on male identity, Stenram plays with the ideas of the male gaze by altering found images of women, placing them behind drapes with only a portion of their body exposed. Definitely a destination for those of us fascinated by theory.

The Parallel Programme is an additional source of activities running for the duration of the festival, including Manchester-based photography group, Redeye, who will be exhibiting new and upcoming photographers across different venues, under the title of Lightbox. Supplementary to this, the Caravan Gallery are creating an exhibition of regional/cultural pride, asking all residents of the Merseyside area to contribute, the results of which will be based outside of the Museum of Liverpool.

The LOOK/13 festival looks to be both thought-provoking and reflective journey, questioning ideas of personal, local and global identity; and with so many exhibitions, events and activities organised around the city, it will be impossible to avoid pondering, just who do you think you are?

Stephanie Kehoe

LOOK/13 runs 17th May – 15th June. For all additional information, events and exhibitions visit LOOK/13 online

A host of Liverpool’s galleries open late Friday evening, which can mean only one thing: Light Night! 

With an embarrassment of riches, this year’s after-hours arts and cultural festival could prove difficult to navigate; never fear though, we’ve picked a top ten…

Sander and Weegee @ the Bluecoat, 16.00–23.00, free

Introduce yourself to LOOK/13, Liverpool’s International Photography Festival, over the course of the Bluecoat’s documentation of August Sander and Arthur Fellig (better known as Weegee). A collaborative effort with Side photographic collection, Newcastle, the gallery will contain two prolific artists probing 1930s and ‘40s New York alongside 1920s and ‘30s Germany in a delicate, elusive manner.

Black Sun Horizon @ The Royal Standard, 16.00–00.00, free

Step out of the city centre chaos for an insight into one of Liverpool’s finest artist-led galleries, The Royal Standard on Vauxhall Road. Including Cory Arcangel, Dick Jewell, Bill Leslie and Samuel Williams, latest exhibition, Black Sun Horizon, is curated by Dave Evans in response to the theme of contemporary boredom.

Official Re-Opening of Central Library @ Central Library, 10.00–00.00, free

Watch as the Central Library brings their history to life through an animated display of the stories held in their fascinating archive, and be one of the first to uncover the beauty of the renovation that will once more become a staple part of Liverpool’s cultural repertoire.

The Art of Parties @ Tate Liverpool, 18.00–21.00, free

Tate Liverpool’s upcoming 25^th birthday is commemorated by community group In The Frame, with a varied evening planned of make-up with So Coco Rouge, a DJ blasting songs from the last three decades, party games and special performances by Sense of Sound.

Liverpool, Unfinished @ Drop the Dumbells, 34 Slater Street, 16.00–22.00, free

Wolstenholme Creative Space revels in the unfinished work of Rob Bremner, whose colour portraits and landscapes span the ‘80s and ‘90s, and are shown here for the first time. Already basking in high acclaim, the outstanding series captures the quirks of the people of Merseyside and provides onlookers with colour, honesty and realism.

Candle-Lit Labyrinth @ the Anglican Cathedral, 18.00–23.00, free

Take a stroll through the stunning Anglican Cathedral’s surroundings whilst enjoying the beautiful Voices of the Labyrinth in the perfect acoustic setting. A great opportunity to explore the Gothic charm of one of Liverpool’s finest buildings.

Drape @ Open Eye Gallery, 18.00–22.00, free

Encompassing myriad openings, Light Night also sees LOOK/13 photography festival get underway across various venues. We should expect quality from the Open Eye Gallery, highlighting the importance of photography as an art form in response to the question ‘Who do you think you are?’.  Although the gallery also plays host to French photographer Charles Fréger, it is Eva Stenram’s use of 1960’s pin ups in a clash of vintage with modernity that draws our attention. Recognised worldwide for her talent in representation, Stenram’s work at the Open Eye was shortlisted for this year’s Hyères International Photography Competition.

Of Time and Place – Futures Lost and Found @ Mello Mello, 16.00–00.00, free

Of real importance to the cultural fabric of the city, Mello Mello café and arts centre will be showcasing a vision of the past, present and future of their venue, utilising the building itself as a blank page to project a 3D collection of images relating the unique story of the venue. The evening includes an auction for art lovers, Burlesque sessions, African drumming, free live bands and a chance to investigate all four floors of the building. A great opportunity to show your support to so crucial a venue.

ALIVE: In the Face of Death @ Walker Art Gallery, 16.00–22.00, free

Amidst the collection of exhibitions on display at the Walker Art Gallery is ALIVE: In the Face of Death, a glimpse into the spectacle that is Rankin’s career. A fresh outlook on the hope and unity that embrace the last days of the life of everyday people, the exhibition rejoices in the pleasures of everyday life and contemplates the ways in which we all differ in our pursuit.

Recurring @ Camp and Furnace, 16.00–00.00, free

Not Just Collective present a diverse selection of artistic practices that will intermingle to create an exhibition, with additional emphasis on the broad range of live performances set to complete the experience for guests.

Recommended routes:

#1

Candle-lit Labyrinth @ Anglican Cathedral, 18.00 – 23.00, free

Of Time and Place @ Mello Mello, 16.00 – 00.00, free

ALIVE: In the Face of Death @ Walker Art Gallery, 16.00 – 22.00, free

Official Re-Opening @ Central Library, 22.00 – 00.00, free             

#2

Black Sun Horizon @ The Royal Standard, 16.00 – 00.00, free

Drape @ Open Eye Gallery, 18.00 – 22.00, free

The Art of Parties @ Tate Liverpool, 18.00 – 21.00, free

#3

Liverpool, Unfinished @ Drop the Dumbells, 16.00 – 22.00 , free

Sander and Weegee @ The Bluecoat, 16.00 – 23.00, free

Recurring @ Camp and Furnace, 16.00 – 00.00, free

Kayleigh Davies

See the official Light Night 2013 website for more details!

Ahead of FACT’s screening of a pair of Peter Cushing-starring Dr Who films, Adam Scovell investigates their enduring appeal…

There’s something distinctly pleasurable about the two 1960s Doctor Who films.  They’re completely farfetched, kitsch to the extreme and ridden with issues (both cinematically and in the canon of Doctor Who) but they’re easily some of the most enjoyable creations to exist within the brand. Trying to analyse them in the same way, or from the same mental positioning, as you would a more academic piece of cinema would be fruitless; any issues they broach have evolved from their original Television scripting and are largely scraped out, leaving an enjoyable slice of pulpy genre action.

Though the idea of a Doctor Who film is something met with a great deal of suspicion in the current age (a backlash last year is testament to this), in the mid 1960s it wasn’t anywhere near out of the realms of possibility. Though Dalekmania had already begin to waver by 1965, the filmic adaptation of the first ever Dalek story served to inject fresh life into the program, generating enough interest for a sequel as well as proving to the producers that the show had more to offer in spite of the current leading actor’s desire to leave.

Dalekmania allows for visual splurges of excitement and boy’s own comic book madness to appear onscreen; this was the first chance to see Doctor Who in colour, having been on TV screens a mere three years when the first of the two films came out. The productions take full advantage of this by making the Daleks and their worlds some of the most colourful to appear on screen since Forbidden Planet (1956). Ignoring the apparent influence on the recent, awful colour update (said to be homage to the film Daleks), they become the most visually effective Daleks to ever grace a screen.

Dr. Who and the Daleks (1965) takes more creative licence with the Terry Nation material than Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150 A.D. (1966), though the latter’s title instantly sounds more exciting than the original; The Dalek Invasion of Earth. This looseness with the script perhaps explains some fan indifference to the films, though it’s rare to find a fan that doesn’t love some aspect found within. In contrast to the Television stories, they are ironically far lighter, more Sunday afternoon fun than questioning, Cold War dystopias. This perhaps explains their success; in taking only the basic structures of both television stories, it allows the films to focus on excitement and adventure over the academic parallels to the Nazis and the Cold War that the television serials took the time to ponder over.

Elsewhere, the idea of spectacle over thematic content would be mostly frowned upon, but here it is something extremely desirable.  Its spectacle is a 1960s-hued explosion of colour and light, clear from the openings of both films which take the psychedelic to the extreme with their title sequences, replacing one with a sleazy, jazz band score and other with frantic Tropica madness. This visual cacophony is both exciting and adorable, especially in the earlier film that is full to the brim with pulpy alien landscapes that make up Skaro. Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150 A.D. is the better of the two though, both in pacing and in style. A battered London is well realised, crawling with huge, colourful Daleks, and boasting one of the best spaceships in sci-fi cinema. Even the Robomen, the human slaves of the Daleks, are changed from ragged trousered zombies of the low-budget Television episodes, to black PVC clad soldiers, clearly on the cusp of the swinging era.

The casts of both films are also excellent. Peter Cushing is an underrated Doctor in spite of him determinedly referring to himself as “Doctor Who”; something that causes most fans to squirm and cry out “that’s not right!” His gentle scientist is of the Jules Verne/ H.G Wells variety that The Doctor started out in before he descended into the more typical, faceable hero/God of modern Who. His companions are somewhat under-par, though Bernard Cribbins as Tom the policeman is a wonderful, clumsy creation. He steals most of Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150 A.D. both with his comedic moments and the emotive opening and closing of the film, offering a brief window on a moment in his life.

These segments are extremely touching. Showing the viewer a whole new world in the same way it does with Tom, before happily and comfortably placing them back into his with the added bonus a few seconds into the past can give: a relationship mirrored for the viewer. Forget canon, plot holes and all the other criticisms that these films often draw from fans; they occupy that special place in 1950s/1960s, sci-fi kitsch and sit happily alongside George Pal’s The Time Machine and Fred F. Sears’ Earth Vs The Flying Saucers (1956) in terms of quality, panache and giddy, (almost) guilty, pleasure.

Dr Who and The Daleks screens 6pm @ FACT on Sunday

Tuesday – Beyond the Hills 6pm @ FACT

Best known for his 2007 film 4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days, Romanian director Cristian Mungiu won Best Screenplay at Cannes in 2012 for his latest, Beyond The Hills, while its co-stars (Cristina Flutur and Cosmina Stratan) shared Best Actress. Dealing with the friendship and differing life-choices of girls who grew up in the same orphanage, the Guardian called it “a powerful and sombre meditation on faith and friendship in present-day Romania”.

Barnabas Calder: Cedric Price, the Radical’s Radical 6.30pm @ Camp and Furnace

In this latest Biennial talk, architectural historian Barnabas Calder looks at the work of the visionary British architect and critic, Cedric Price. Calder will focuss on two of Price’s most radical schemes, Fun Palace and Think Belt, with the view that they were “polemics about urban regeneration, the arts, and the dangers of institutional inflexibility”.

CSS 8pm @ East Village Arts Club £12.50

Eight years ago, Cansei de Ser Sexy – which translates in their native Portuguese as ‘I got tired of being sexy’ – exploded into eardrums with single Let’s Make Love and Listen to Death From Above, and onto the covers of a thousand magazines. Now, amid line-up changes and rumours of a permanent split never too far away, the band led by Love Foxxx are back with new record, Planta.

Wednesday – Public Service Broadcasting 7.30pm @ the Kazimier £10

Sometimes you fall in love with something on concept alone, only to have your amour dashed when it comes to the crunch of hearing or seeing the thing in action. We’re happy to report that the (albeit annoyingly named) duo of J. Willgoose, Esq and Wrigglesworth, described here by 6 Music’s Mark Radcliffe as “public information films with new soundtracks”, more than deliver.

Thursday – Mean Jean/Man in The Dark/Norweb 7.30pm @ the Lomax £3 

Although firmly rooted in a particular era, there remains something resolutely timeless about indie-pop which always draws us in hook, line and sinker. And while they’re described on the event page as pop-noise (which is as good a definition as any, we guess), there is a part of Mean Jean that belongs in a Rough Trade shop in 1986.

PICK OF THE WEEK: Friday – Light Night various venues

Where to start with our pick of the week? Taking in 50 city centre venues which play host to around 100 events, Light Night is the once-every-year opportunity to go to your favourite galleries, as well as some off-the-beaten-track, after dark. From Rankin at the Walker to the reopening of Central Library, there is an embarrassment of riches on offer. Look out for our preview coming soon.

Suuns 8pm @ the Kazimier £9

The first thing you notice about Montreal’s Suuns, is the inescapable fact that vocally, they bear more than a passing resemblance to Liverpool band Clinic – certainly we’re not the first to make this observation. But rather than get wound up in lazy comparisons, it soon becomes apparent that whatever references are there to picked out, this is a band worthy of consideration on their own – not inconsiderable – merits.

Saturday – Silent Cities Eigenlicht EP launch 7pm @ Leaf £5

While ostensibly programmed and promoted as an EP launch for the Buckley/Nick Drake-inspired Silent Cities, this night is more than a marketing opportunity. Amiable as Silent Cities are, we’re drawn to an act lower down the bill, Manchester’s Marc Rigelsford, better known as Magic Arm. A multi-instrumentalist and “master of the loop pedal” (so says Iron & Wine’s Samuel Beam), make sure you arrive early enough for this talented, delightfully eccentric performer.

Sunday – Dr Who and The Daleks 6pm @ FACT

With popularity for the Dr seemingly at an all time high, FACT presents us with the perfect excuse to reacquaint ourselves with an earlier incarnation. Starring Peter Cushing, Dr Who and The Daleks offers the type of time-travelling nostalgia fans – old and new – have grown accustomed to.

In the first of a series on the nature of modern criticism, artist and blogger Darren Murphy looks at the responsibility of the writer to readability…

We’ve all done it; gone to an exhibition, and been absolutely flummoxed by the artist’s work on display. In some instances, we turn to writing for help. Sometimes, however, arts writing brings with it as many questions as solutions.

The keenness of those inhabiting the art world to be creative with their nouns is no more evident than in the gallery press release, something Erica Scourti often satirises in her work. The recent Guardian article, A user’s guide to artspeak, brought to light a paper published by Triple Canopy last year, in which it is posited: “The internationalized art world relies on a unique language.” The paper recognises this unique language as rife in the ‘Art World’, a language by its own merit, and much debate has been sparked by the paper’s resurfacing.

This concern with art writing is nothing new; in 2004 at Manchester’s Cornerhouse an event took place named On Communication, coinciding with the Hayward Gallery’s touring show, Incommunicado. The event came in two parts; the first chaired by freelance curator Heidi Reitmaier, with Will Bradley and Rachel Withers speaking.

During the event a member of the audience asked Withers what responsibility the writer holds to the reader. In her response Withers likened a writer’s responsibility to the reader to the act of standing naked atop Mount Everest. Writing is one of the most democratic ways of communicating, anyone can gain access to it so long as it is published; i.e., a writer is exposed to everyone, just like a nudist at the top of the world.

So, is it that the writer may not necessarily have responsibility to the reader, but to the readability of a text? In this context, take ‘readability’ to mean how easy it is to interpret a text’s meaning (i.e. avoiding jargon), and in that case what may take away from the readability of critical writing about art? Let us look back some sixty years to George Orwell’s Politics and the English Language, where he discusses arts and literary criticism:

“In certain kinds of writing, particularly in art criticism and literary criticism, it is normal to come across long passages which are almost completely lacking in meaning … in the sense that they not only do not point to any discoverable object, but are hardly ever expected to do so by the reader…” George Orwell, Politics and the English Language, 1946 

What Orwell essentially states here is that not only does the critic use words that have no obvious meaning or point, but that the reader expects this; that is they expect there to be no commitment to definitive readability but for the texts to be full of words, phrases, and/or points whose meaning is open to interpretation.

Maybe the causes become clear when you consider the fact an art critic is analysing a visual work without a single definitive meaning.

Could it be though that the art critic is not waffling, as perceived by those that understand Orwell’s interpretation of the use of ‘meaningless’, they are in fact ensuring they do not tell the reader what to see, as Clement Greenberg would have preferred. They attempt to help the reader reach a conclusion by using words that are not necessarily meaningless, but merely without a resolute meaning. This allows the reader to both interpret what is being said and take from it as little or as much as they so wish, gaining an engagement with the work or exhibition that they may not have previously had, or adding to one that they did have.

However, this leads us into a territory covered by the footprints of giants. If the critic is attempting to communicate what they are seeing, is it then their responsibility to do this subjectively or objectively?

Darren Murphy

Darren is the founder of Not Too Critical, an inclusive and informal discussion group hoping to incite debate and discussion on matters and subjects pertaining to the contemporary arts

Darren’s words on modern criticism will be serialised on The Double Negative over the next few weeks

Image courtesy Phil Coy, from Hayward Gallery’s touring show, Incommunicado

What do you look for in an MA? Conversation, critique, contact time and inspirational tutors, say artists studying and teaching Fine Art at LJMU … 

Wandering around the new labyrinthine project spaces at The Royal Standard last week, we were impressed by an ambitious group show. This was Tapped, an exhibition by seven fine art students, part way through their two-year part-time MA at Liverpool John Moores University (LJMU). The former BT call centre – magnolia chipped walls, grey carpets and spongy ceiling tiles all present and correct – were invaded by sculpture, video, painting and print; little interventions popping up in old offices, kitchens and toilets, enhancing the space’s quirks, and a refreshing change from the white walled spaces we’re more familiar with.

It was the perfect playground for these developing artists. The postgraduate course that they’re part of, recently launched following major re-structure at the university’s Liverpool School of Art and Design, has been formed in collaboration with Liverpool Biennial, FACT and Tate Liverpool. Utilising its place in a collaborative arts city, the university has fostered partners ranging from the small (The Royal Standard) to the large (Van Abbemuseum), and this is having a direct, welcome effect on the students.

“The Masters in Fine Art has undergone something of an overhaul over the last year,” reflects Programme Leader, and instigator, John Bryne. “As well as having new high profile research staff such as Imogen Stidworthy and Rosalind Nashashibi working on the Programme (and bringing in fresh ideas), the MA is more embedded within the world of current international contemporary art practice.”

A successful £5 million European bid means that LJMU, through the ‘Uses of Art’ research project, is currently planning a heap of student opportunities to work alongside major international institutions such as MACBA (Barcalona), Reina Sofia (Madrid) and Salt (Istanbul).

Talking with the students and staff during Tapped, however, it becomes very clear that the real appeal of a good masters degree is in the small touches.

Lucy Somers, an artist exploring painting and installation, was one of our ‘graduates to watch’ from last year’s degree show. “On the MA so far it’s been a really exciting sort of dream team… it’s a really tight-knit, small group, and we’ve been able to really investigate each other’s work … we’ve been able to delve into lots of pieces of writing and fragments of work that extend thoughts and discussion in deep detail.”

We wonder why she chose to continue straight from BA to MA, rather than take a year out, or go somewhere else?

“I think I made such a leap with my degree show piece, which I hadn’t really made in such a succinct way before in my work, feeling the buzz with that I wanted to keep running. Also the MA was just being formed and re-written … and that’s been a really defining feature of the course, restructured and designed to purpose, it’s been just amazing from a pedagogical aspect; just thinking about how you want to learn and how you want to discuss things.”

Practising artist and tutor Rosalind Nashashibi has recently taken students to see her shortlisted work within the Northern Art Prize (see our review here), and believes the key to an inspiring postgrad course lies within the size of the group, and leading by example.

“We’re going to keep it to a small group of students who have built up a real strong bond between them … it’s a very discursive MA. It’s about exposure, building up curiosity and building up a small group who are able to impact on each other’s work. Imogen and I are both practicing artists, and we use our own research … We think the most valid way of teaching is through the example of artists practice.”

Sculptor and mixed media artist Tori Hannah Walker concurs. “Both Imogen and Rosalind are really good at what they do … all of the different pools of information that they bring us and all of the ways that they get us to either display or talk, it is very much a self-critical two years; it’s understanding how we are going to be in the future.”

A potentially detrimental part of the course is the fact that there is currently no studio space for the MA students, which is to be rectified come September. Tutor and multimedia artist Imogen Stidworthy, previousy of Jan van Eyck Academy and Academy for Applied Arts Vienna, has been able to turn the situation into a positive.

“Because they haven’t got a studio, it’s so important to find ways of making work and [combined with] the physical relation of viewing your work … it’s too easy for the course to become purely discursive when there’s no studio space. To try to counter that potential problem, because it’s so important that it’s not just a theoretical experience, we’ve made these opportunities where they can show work together … intensively for three or four days, discuss, go and have studio visits to their own studios … to find ways to keep in touch with each others work.”

The addition of studio space for masters students at the Art and Design Academy, as well as access to all workshops, switched-on staff and discussion time, is just part of the nurturing atmosphere the Liverpool School of Art and Design is eager to foster.

“At the end of the day, we want to make the MA Fine Art a great experience for our students,” adds Byrne, “and also a hub of activity that will help the level of art practice in Liverpool to continue growing.” Amen to that.

More on LJMU Fine Art MA

See MA student Cahal Ague’s latest commissioned artwork at Sticks and Stones, Weds 29 May 2013, as part of Writing on the Wall festival

Tell us what do YOU look for in an MA – are you a current or potential postgrad student? Where are you studying or looking to study? Give us your comments below…

DW Mault on a pair of films dealing with the vitality and cruelty of youth…

The romance of narrative is perpetually at odds with reality; which is a problem that longs for an answer. That answer belongs in the idea that an emotional reality must be steeped in place and individuals, letting them organically seep into our consciousness so we don’t realise until it’s too late that we in fact are watching someone’s representation of a period of time.

Time is an essence quintessentially linked to cinema via the constructs of the self: our idea of ourselves and our surroundings are at once linked towards our relationship with our environment and those that exist there.

What do we talk about when we talk about time? Is it youth, the idea of a lost youth, an idea of the potential lost, or adventures to come? Cinema has often been accused with a fetishisation of youth and beauty, and with good cause, but with an aim at the end of this false avenue. That aim is an anti-nostalgia, a project that says we live and then die but life goes on; it’s a forceful admittance of our own futility.

Two films approach us like electricity, showing youth in all its nasty vicissitudes, its ecstasies of emotion that hits joyous heights and sudden violent relationship entanglements. The first to come our way is Adam Leon’s Gimme The Loot, which competed in the Un Certain Regard section at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival and won the Grand Jury Prize at SXSW. Shot for $65,000 on the streets of the Bronx, it follows Malcolm and Sofia’s McGuffinesque attempt to raise $500 so they can tag the home run apple of the NY Mets.

This is a film that cares not for this banality though, it’s about the streets, people, and two long hot days where the impatience of youth invites us to observe how cultures meet and dissect. It’s a film that looks like it was shot on grainy Super 16mm but wasn’t, a film that knows its place in the counter-cultural history of NY: residing halfway between Walter Hill’s The Warriors and Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing.

Shooting on long lenses, a la Ken Loach, Leon allows the film to exist within the paradigm of its own making. We are invited through a closed door to see past the bluff and bluster of teenage braggadocio, to observe the tender emotions of the not yet formed adults and see them playing with the masks which in later life they will be forced to wear to survive those internal streets of the mind that they’ll want to escape but probably won’t.

Gimme The Loot is ultimately a film about friendship and certainty; the sense of purpose that the teenage mind sees everything through: black and white, always with the black and white. No compromise, for that entails empathy: the idea that everything matters more than anything else, a pure solipsism that we all know (and some of us have grew out of), but all these philosophical placements comes to the fore in our second film: Michel Gondry’s The We And The I.

Michel Gondry is a filmmaker I always liked the idea of rather than his films. Very much a conceptualist, he seemed ideally suited to shorts and music videos rather than full length features. His films are full of moments that never come alive, I’d rather have his ‘Swede’ version of Taxi Driver than the whole of Be Kind Rewind. He is a filmmaker capable of the unexpected though, for this I point you in the direction of both his documentary about his family, The Thorn In The Heart, and his young, dumb and full of come anti-superhero film The Green Hornet.

The We And The I features a group of teenagers who ride the same bus route, and how their relationships change and evolve on the last day of school. It’s a modern day, urbanised Dazed And Confused, but it is perhaps more than that. It holds a mirror to the unholy mess of hormones and the potential for emotional violence within ourselves. Now though we can look and smile or cringe, depending on how your school days were for you: the best or worst of your life (I myself am very suspicious of anyone who says they were the best)…

The bus is Antonin Artaud’s Théâtre de la Cruauté in microcosm, but with the attention span of a goldfish, an idea in the flesh of the choice of goodness, and doing and being in that state while surrounded by the devil and angels of the mind that come to be our peers; of course we have the ideal of how we learn that sex and relationships can save us from ourselves and civilise a person thought lost, but also destroy and hurt, like when learning of the danger of fire and/or water. For this is where we are created to go forth and exist within the confines of a warped society. For the bus, we have the world and everything in it.

These two films are like echoes of each other, a call and response yelp from the narrow streets of Alphabet City. We now live in a world where the cultural revolution of Hip Hop has overtaken the world and become the dominant influence on the culture. What we can only liken to Castro and Che coming down from the hills in Cuba to overthrow Batista and bring in a post-revolutionary universe, well this is the world these teenagers find themselves in. Some sink, some swim; it’s all grist to the mill of selfhood’s burgeoning search for a feasible identity.

There is a sweetness here though in both films, and that sweetness is to do with the possibility of change; how in what seems like minor moments we are on a different path and that might be because of a glance, a kiss, a punch, a gift: all of these and none of them. So see these films and luxuriate in the idea of what is, what isn’t and what might have been; a moment of easy choices that seemed difficult only because there appeared only two choices: black or white?

Gimme The Loot screens at FACT from May 10th and The We And The I will be released later in the year

DW Mault

In this essay, Nathan Richardson muses on facts and the impressions of facts, with specific reference to Fournier’s The Funeral of Shelley…

During my education, the Walker Art Gallery was often patronised as a suitable purpose for a school-trip. It was (in the eyes of the school): inexpensive, safe, and allowed for students to engage with “the arts,” thus having some educational value.

Packed onto buses and deposited into the city, were: the teaching staff, whose faces for the entire day would emote only a sincere look of concern; the obligatory, over-zealous mothers who volunteered to assist on occasion (but never really did anything except usher the students about), and the children themselves, who – understandably – viewed the occasion not as an opportunity to embrace the great masters, but as mere novelty.

Extracted from their usual locale, they became excitable, and from my memories every one of these trips was completely disastrous. A short tour would be given, followed by some absurd activity in which one was expected to copy a painting with pencil crayons; but then of course the gift shop would always offer more appeal, and before long the day would be over, with nothing achieved but exhaustion.

I don’t excuse myself from this attitude, and years later, the gallery still held little attraction. For me, the city fulfilled one need: inebriation. It was only when I moved back from University, and signed on the dole, that a vague interest kindled. Visiting in March of this year I spent an afternoon wandering around Liverpool, aimlessly stalking the streets – drifting into coffee shops, book shops, along the river, and then I breezed through the gallery before slipping away, back to the dreadful quiet of suburbia. (I think, actually, it was my interest in Philip Larkin that led me back – in a letter of his from 1950, to his friend Monica Jones, he wrote of his journey to the Walker, and the delight he felt in seeing John Brett’s 1858 painting, The Stonebreaker. Sixty-three years later, I found myself gazing at the very same work that thrilled the poet, and this trivial, ephemeral detail in turn thrilled me.)

When still an undergraduate, I attended a public lecture at a gallery in Nottingham. It was given by an American artist (whose name escapes me today). I cared not little for his work but I found myself at the lecture nonetheless, and distinctly remember him recalling his days as a Fine Art student in Harvard, and remarking: “I liked looking at paintings. Writing about them was beyond painful, but I liked looking at them.” This made an impression on me, as I felt very much the same.

So, back in March, it was with this almost superficial attitude that I approached the gallery. I would, on occasion, contrive some notional argument for what the painter intended to convey, the significance of specific features, perhaps, but mostly I delighted in simply how the painting looked, rather than what the painting meant.

The work that struck me most was The Funeral of Shelley (above), an 1889 piece by the French artist Louis Édouard Fournier. The piece depicts the cremation of the poet Percy Shelley, on a beach near Viareggio, after his death (in 1822) in a boating incident nearby. It shows the burning poet, with friends Edward John Trelawny, Leigh Hunt, and Lord Byron, at his side. While Trelawny and Hunt look down mournfully, Byron gazes out, almost as though he is posing, and I can remember feeling slightly amused by this, but didn’t stop to think what it might mean.

A month or so later, my friend mentioned the painting. Of the great many works in the gallery, she spoke of this one. We arranged to meet and observe the painting together. And so, a few days later, she showed me Greiffenhagen’s An Idyll, a piece discoursed upon in D.H. Lawrence’s first novel, The White Peacock and for her a personal favourite. A brief visit was paid to The Stonebreaker, and then excitedly we approached Fournier’s masterpiece. How bleak it looks, I thought – the colours are drab, lifeless. This is what I began to find so fascinating about the painting, and it is this subject that I wish to specifically address here. We know from contemporaneous documentation that the day on which Shelley was cremated was in fact a long, hot August day, and yet Fournier emphatically ignores this. I am interested in facts, and the impressions of facts.

In an essay for the Guardian, the brilliant Julian Barnes wrote of the even more brilliant Ford Madox Ford: “Ford once said that he had a great contempt for fact, while guaranteeing his accuracy as to impressions.” I think this is particularly pertinent with regard to The Funeral of Shelley. Fournier himself displays contempt for fact, but the impressions of those facts are astute. While in a literal sense, Shelley’s funeral happened on a sunny day, Fournier manipulates that truth for artistic effect. The sense of loss and mourning is reflected dramatically by nature Herself, the implication being almost that she herself weeps over the departed poet. This, of course, is hardly uncommon in the arts, often referred to as pathetic fallacy.

Is Fournier right to do what he does? In a word, yes. Art, I believe, should be a heightened version of life. Facts lack an interior. They are inhuman. But impressions are real, they are human. The impression conveys what something feels like, not what something is. The truth, more or less, is boring.

In our own lives, you can, for example, catch the eye of somebody passing you in the street and feel as though your entire world has been utterly moved. In truth, you have merely interacted with another, but the impression of that is much greater. Just as Proust, dipping his Madeleine cake into a cup of tea feels his history invoked: had he recalled his past through rational thought, the same memories, he would have been, I’m sure, unmoved, but it was the sensation of the cake, the impression of the fact that led him to feel, ‘that exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses’.

This idea of mimesis is one that pervades Literature. In The Republic, Plato writes of Socrates’ metaphor of three beds (ideas): the first bed is one formed by God; the second bed, a replica of God’s, crafted by a carpenter; and the third is one made by the artist and a replica of the carpenter’s. Several centuries later, René Magritte, in his painting, The Treachery of Images, evoked something similar, stating, beneath an image of a pipe, Ceci n’est pas une pipe.

There is no inherent relationship between these two works but both seem to suggest the inferiority of art to life. The artist’s impression of the bed is inferior to God’s, just as Magritte stresses that his pipe is not, in fact, a pipe. But the beauty of art, the importance of art, is that it can take themes, ideas, images, etc., and remove them from their ordinary context placing them into something greater. An artist takes an idea and transforms it from something everyday into something universal.

Magritte’s pipe may not be real, but it represents something real. It comes back to this sense of facts, and the impressions of facts. This is what I find so fascinating about The Funeral of Shelley. Fournier captured the impression of that day particularly. Of course, he could have written, ‘This is not a funeral,’ which would be literally true, but it is how the funeral felt – and feelings, I believe, are more interesting and more important than facts. They are what make us human. The purpose of art should not be to recreate life, but to explain it, and it is through impressions, I believe, that this is best achieved.

Nathan Richardson

A one man anecdote making machine, Mark E. Smith is the contrary genius behind first-wave post-punk’s most enduring band…

Usually when referring to a band member, it is a standard convention to state the band in terms of ownership: Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore, for example. It is more unusual, positively rare in fact, to give ownership to a band member, even prominent ones such as Mr. Moore up there.

This however, in some particular cases, is the only way. Especially when speaking of The Fall, who play Liverpool tomorrow in support of 30^th studio album, Re-Mit. For The Fall essentially ARE their lead singer; the maverick, occasionally irascible Mark E. Smith. Thus there is no question, the convention here is Mark E. Smith’s The Fall.

Over those 30 albums and the 37 years of their existence, Smith has worked his way through 60 plus band members. It makes you wonder why wife Elena Poulou – in the group since 2002 – would ever sign on for what is only ever a short-lived ‘career’ path. Make no mistake about it, there is only one constant where The Fall are concerned; as he has so succinctly (and wonderfully) put it himself: “If it’s me and your granny on bongos, then it’s [the] Fall.”

Never mind if you’re his wife, Mark Riley, a jobbing musician or your granny, why would anybody want in on a band led by such a notorious tyrant? It’s no surprise to learn that a third have lasted barely a year before getting the push, or deciding quite rationally, that it’s time to walk. Singer, songwriter and paymaster, he decides who to hire and who to fire. Particularly fire; Smith famously sacked a guitarist on the guy’s wedding day.

Of course, MES prefers to see his role more as hirer of apprentices until they’re fit to be a Fall musician. In his eyes, beyond that, they no doubt get too big for their boots. And the truth of why this steady stream of people want in on the club (no matter how soon they inevitably become members of another, inextricably linked club, that ever-increasing Fall casualties list) is that, whatever you say, read or hear about Mark E. Smith, his band aren’t simply some long-surviving curio; they, as with the man himself, are bone-fide cult legends.

Conceived in the wake of a Sex Pistols gig in Manchester in the 70s (along with the likes of their soon to be peers, the Buzzcocks and Joy Division), they are the remaining act from the post-punk explosion of that era who continue to make music as interesting and – perhaps more pertinently – as credible as their early output. They have left many a band, including the two mentioned here, firmly in their dust. Or perhaps cigarette smoke is more relevant in Smith’s case.

Key to the band’s longevity is that no one sounds quite like The Fall. Of course there have and always will be those inspired by, or just plain imitators of, The Fall, to whom Smith often pays short shrift: Blur, Elastica and US band Pavement to name a few. Speaking to The Wire in 1996, Smith said of the latter: “it’s just The Fall in 1985, isn’t it? They haven’t got an original idea in their heads.” A little harsh perhaps, and all the more interesting when you consider The Fall played at the 2010 Pavement-curated ATP.

To match the cantankerous exterior, more than most bands, there is a measure of rough to go with the smooth. Seeing them live is a different experience every time, and not always in a good way. The gig mentioned above saw Smith on form, playing encores but still leaving a predominantly young audience wanting more. Other times, Smith is less lucid and less keen to impress, leaving you with the distinct impression that the old adage ‘you pays your money, you takes your choice’ could have been written with him in mind.

But as with any calling, these are the challenges sent to test you when you are a fan of the band, and few fans are more committed. It remains to be seen which version of Smith and his band will turn up for tomorrow’s gig, but you’d always risk an off night for the chance of a good one.

Image taken from Brian Edge’s Paintwork: A Portrait of The Fall

The Fall play Friday 10th May 7pm @ East Village Arts Club £17.50