Today the opposite of tomato is No Country for Old Men
graphite & putty eraser/30x20cm
source: 6th generation B&W p/copy from original newspaper photograph
'The Guardian' G2 16/01/09
Being the second in the nascent series of drawings processed from ‘degraded’ photocopies (in this instance the 6th copy-of-the-copy) taken from newspaper photographs. Taken out of its original context of advertising expensive underwear (at the same time, of course, shamelessly, relentlessly self-promoting the garments’ model), the accompanying Guardian article amusingly reads the image in terms of a still from an example of
nouvelle vague cinema, at which its chic manufactured glamour & atmosphere of a certain edgy, politely-transgressive cool surely aims. Degraded through the various stages of photocopy (‘de-photographized’, at least from its original state, albeit through another photographic process), the image emerges from this & subsequently the drawing process in a suitably distressed state that subverts its original intention into something altogether more distressed & perhaps abject, anonymous, that suggests a certain seediness more representative of cheap pornography, & relates to something like the work of
Gerhard Richter derived & 'unpainted' from such sources, examples of which might be found on the artist’s website
here.
Soundtrack:
PJ Harvey ‘Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea’
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds ‘The Boatman’s Call’
Laura Veirs ‘Year of Meteors’
Portishead ‘Dummy’, ‘Portishead’ & ‘Third’
The Associates ‘Fourth Drawer Down’ As ever slightly out of step with & just behind the times (the preferred location), the most recent musical investment has been, at last, in the mighty
Portishead’s third album, ‘difficult’ not only perhaps in its 10-year gestation (again, an admirable pace at which to work) but also in its sonic aesthetic; harsher than previously, electro-industrial & somewhat ‘post-apocalyptic’ in a manner that recalls nothing so much as the sound of the immediately post-punk late 1970s-early 80s (when, coincidentally or not, we ‘enjoyed’ similar socio-economic conditions, the spectre of mass-unemployment, the fearful uncertainty of the future, etc), particularly with the use of vintage-sounding, Kraftwerky synthesizers –
‘Third’ indeed might reasonably be regarded as a sister to & peer of, for instance,
Joy Division’s
‘Unknown Pleasures’, with which it shares a palpable sense of claustrophobia (one might suggest it best be listened to, at least for a fuller effect, through headphones or otherwise in a small, enclosed & darkened room). The monochrome photograph of Portishead radio station that illustrates the CD’s booklet provides a fitting visual analogue, having about it a certain quality of dystopian bleakness, but the sound nonetheless is exhilarating, humanized by
Beth Gibbon’s expressive, often haunted, vulnerable, fragile voice, the softness & femininity of which complements the generally stark brutalism of the instrumentation, clashing guitar & alternately pounding, snapping, rattling, echoing robotic percussive rhythms (a title such as
‘Machine Gun’ offers a fair representation of the sound of the song to which it puts its name). There’s a satisfying air of experimentation abroad, too, in addition to the overall development of the band’s sound: songs change direction discordantly &/or end unexpectedly, the unrelenting urban machinery of electronica is suddenly leavened by an acoustic lull or brief, folky, pastoral interlude such as
'Deep Water' that recalls Beth Gibbon’s other work
‘Out of Season’ (&
PJ Harvey, too) only to be followed immediately, ironically, by the aforementioned blazing ‘Machine Gun’, or a free-form saxophone, otherworldly, adds another layer of texture. As a musical departure (although certain aspects were signposted during the course of its predecessor, on a song such as
'Over', for example), it’s undoubtedly a brave one, an intriguing & rewarding artistic development, & a compelling experience, one that rather seems to fit, essentially, the recent aesthetic direction the drawing has taken.
In similar vein, this week saw the initial viewing - again at last, after much procrastination - of the
Coen Brothers' modern-day existentialist Western
'No Country for Old Men', another unrelenting experience, minimalist, harsh & brutal in any number of ways, but compelling in its lean-scripted narrative &, as ever courtesy of
Roger Deakins' cinematography, visually ravishing even in its dry desert landscapes. Another landmark in the Coens' canon, although undoubtedly their bleakest view yet, with fine performances from
Javier Bardem (in the menacing, pneumatic gun-wielding presence of whose character, the malevolent Anton Chigurh, one becomes transfixed, horribly),
Josh Brolin &
Tommy Lee Jones, the film also ends unexpectedly & thought-provokingly, with a non-traditional resolution (of sorts) that provides no moral answers or sense of justice or feel-good factor (as, for instance,
'Fargo' &
'Blood Simple' do, eventually, to varying degrees) yet seems to embody, to personify its title.
