Santiago Sierra is a Spanish artist who creates works that are seemingly morally bankrupt, and that initially inspire revulsion in the minds of most. The pointless menial labor of marginalised members of society is what Sierra uses as the raw materials with which to create his works, and it is this that people find the most distressing.
Previous works have included: paying illegal immigrants to sit under boxes in galleries for hours at a time; bricking a gallery worker inside a room for 10 days; and covering 10 Iraqis in hardening foam.
In one work 160cm Line Tattooed Four People– four prostitutes are paid in the price of a shot heroin, to have a line tattooed on their backs. The line is thin and straight, and spans the entire width of the back of one, continuing across all six. Thetattoo machine needle echoes the needle through which the nominal amount of heroin will be administered, and the tattoo speaks of the permanency of the tattoo in contrast to the immediate and short-lived effects of the heroin.
In this work,the women involved have made a conscious choice to accept the tattoo for the recompense offered. The decision is theirs alone, yet to the viewer this is unarguably exploitative and insensitive. Heroin addiction is tragic in its banality, and this is something that Sierra exposes through his exploitation of these women, in an equally banal and tragic way.
For the individual women tattooed, this work is clearly exploitative and unethical, but — if by its execution the needs and struggles of the chemically dependent are exposed to a wider audience, then the work can serve some positive purpose. This work may serve society on the whole, as through its utter depravity it may encourage people to offer help to those affected by addiction in a similar way.
The problem here lies with a society that allows these people to become so desperate that they are willing to go to such lengths. Sierra himself explained the work saying:
“The tattoo is not the problem. The problem is the existence of social conditions that allow me to make this work.”
This exploitation of individuals in order to serve society on the whole is unpalatable, but it is this unpalatability that affects us so profoundly, thus creating a real empathy that would be unachievable through the use of mere statistics. The exploitation of a few to serve the greater good may be ethically ambiguous, but it is something that happens all across society and all throughout history, to varying degrees of severity.
The revulsion that these works create in the viewer can be incredibly powerful in the fight against social injustice. Sierra’s works expose exploitation that is already there, even inside the institutions in which he shows his work. Sierra may pay someone minimum wage to sit in a gallery for four hours per day, but just down the corridor a security guard is paid the same amount to stand for often longer amounts of time.
In many ways, his work is the antithesis of Maria Eichhorn’s most recent work 5 Weeks, 25 Days, 175 Hours; in which she spent the budget for the show on closing the gallery and paying the staff to take the full duration of the show off work.
By highlighting these issues in the way that he does, Sierra stuns the viewer into action like the shock of cold water, and through this we are compelled to alter these types of situations in our own lives. His works afford the subjects a physicality that promotes much more intense feelings of empathy than can be created by plain numbers, seen upon a white page.
This works in much the same way as the documentation of war by photographers such as Don Mccullin. In a way, war photography is exploitative of those depicted dying and desolate, but the way in which these horrors are documented can promote viewers to help is incalculable. In this sense, the ends more than justify the means.
The exploitation of marginalised workers isn’t something that often makes headlines; it is the type of issue that is easy to sweep under the rug, and one that isn’t likely to sell many newspapers. Those who are being exploited are often fearful or unable to stand up for themselves, and if they do, they risk losing their only source of income.
As a society we are programmed to exploit, always seeking the most high-quality product or service for the lowest price. Phrases such as ‘bargain’ and ‘great value’ suggest a victory for the consumer at the expense of the producer. Commerce and the payment for services is not an altruistic system, it is predicated on cynicism and exploitation. Menial wage exploitation isn’t a bold or particularly visible form of injustice, and it will never garner headlines like racism, sexism, or homophobia. By creating his works, Sierra is fore-fronting these issues and making them unavoidable; we are unable to ignore such horror, and therein lies the beauty of his works. There is no stronger way of compelling help from those who are able to give it, than by exposing to them their silent complicity in the injustice that they are so repulsed by.
Through inaction and acquiescence, we are all complicit in certain forms of exploitation; from the cheaply made items we consume and dispose of; to the sweatshop-made fashion we buy. We are constantly looking for the best deal: the highest quality with the cheapest price. This frugality when misdirected can fuel the exploitation machine, it pushes prices for products and services lower, and as a direct consequence it is the disadvantaged that suffer the greatest losses.
Things (especially art) take their meaning from the viewer’s cache of similar past experience. The viewer attains their perspective by evaluating their feelings and understandings, seen through the prism of memory and how similar events have affected them.
If the positions of the artist’s ethical sensibilities, or the way those are portrayed are too obvious, the viewer reads the work as propaganda and becomes automatically and subconsciously defensive; or worse, dismissive. Art created didactically is better described as an applied art, or a piece of design, rather than true art — an idea summed up accurately by Gilda Williams:“If an artwork’s message is self-evident, maybe it’s just an illustration, a decorative non-entity, a well executed craft object, hardly counting as ‘significant’ art at all.”
This means that meaning and intent on the part of the artist must be vague, so as to be absorbed neutrally and thus ruminated upon by the viewer. The viewer can then decide through further consideration the ethical or philosophical undertones to the work, and can feel as if they have discovered them independently. This is the best way to convey ideas through art and produce real change. It leaves the decisions up to the viewer, and the gratification they receive when they feel like they have understood, or elucidated meaning from a work is profound.
Upon entering a gallery, the viewer is somewhat unguarded when it comes to political discourse, and is thus more easily affected. Certain media outlets, orators, and publications for example can be dismissed before they have had a chance to convey any information due to the viewer’s preconceptions about their bias, validity, or trustworthiness. This is less frequent in an art gallery however, which it is why the gallery setting is the perfect arena for information dissemination and discussion. The very act of placing an item or situation into a gallery setting opens it up to a level of scrutiny that the complexity of normal life suppresses.
What makes Sierra’s work all the more powerful is that it isn’t some grandiose attempt to topple governments or promote revolution; it simply shows how people can affect change in a very real and tangible way. The change Sierra is suggesting is the rejection of a system that isn’t working, and he is showing us exactly how to go about forcing that change. Upon seeing his work I cannot imagine any viewer not reevaluating how they see cheap labor, and changing their actions towards those less fortunate.
To borrow a phrase from Eugène Ionesco – “To tear ourselves away from the everyday, from habit, from mental laziness which hides from us the strangeness of reality, we must receive something like a real bludgeon blow.”
Originally published in AfterNyne Magazine.
For more about Santiago Sierra’s work, head over to Lisson Gallery.
What do you think about Santiago Sierra’s controversial works? Let us know in the comments below.
We are very excited to announce that we will be hosting Jordy Kerwick’s first ever UK solo show this December!
More info will be released soon, but if you would like to register your interest in purchasing a painting or print, please email firstname.lastname@example.org
We were recently interviewed by art historian Hector Campbell for Arrested Motion, who recently sat down with our co-founder Benjamin Murphy, to discuss the history of the gallery, our own unique approach to curation, our inaugural Open Call exhibition, and the upcoming exhibition with Florence Hutchings, Seating Arrangement.
Hector Campbell (HC): Delphian Gallery has existed in one manifestation or another since 2013’s ‘Group Collective are Kunsts’ exhibition, could you explain how the gallery first came about? And how it has subsequently evolved into its current model?
Benjamin Murphy (BM): My co-director (photographer Nick JS Thompson) and I have been working together for a number of years after we met when he wrote an article about me in a magazine he used to manage. I went on to write for the magazine, and we both started co-curating one another’s shows. We both developed a deep love of, and interest in, the art of curation, and so decided to curate our first show in my old studio. It has been a real labour of love for us, which has built gradually into what Delphian is now – a peripatetic style gallery that takes the championing of exciting, emerging art as its key aim.
HC: Delphian, meaning ‘Obscurely Prophetic,’ derives from the Greek mythological oracle at Delphi. What was the rationale behind choosing ‘Delphian’, and how does it’s meaning underpin the gallery’s vision?
BM: Well firstly, we wanted something that was Googleable, as well as something less vapid than just both of our surnames. We decided upon Delphian because it is vague enough to not be too constrictive in what we can show, as well as being something with its own character. “Obscurely Prophetic” is, in a concise two-word phrase, one which we believe all the best art accomplishes. We believe that the most successful and thought-provoking work is informative, but in a non-didactic way.
HC: As an artist-run gallery, what advantages or insights does this offer you, as opposed to more traditional gallerist or art dealers?
BM: I think we understand the position of the artist more than a lot of gallerists or curators do, as we are both artists in our own right. This gives us a unique insight into both sides of the coin in terms of how a show is put together and run, from the artwork production point, up until the curation of a show and the sale of an artwork.
As well as this, we try to curate cohesive shows that could be read as a single artwork in their own right. The way we curate is quite experimental, as we believe there is nothing less interesting (or damaging to the artworks themselves), as a show in which all of the artworks are hung at eye-level around the gallery. These types of shows often encourage people to stand in the middle of the room and just rotate themselves 360 degrees, they leave feeling like they have seen all of the artworks – when of course they often haven’t. We want to curate shows that are essentially immersive artworks in themselves, that are ethereal and only exist in the moment, until the heterogeneous works are divided up again and are either sold or sent back to the artists. We believe that curation is an art form in itself, and it is this philosophy which guides how we curate.
HC: Previous exhibitions have included photographers Aaron McElroy and Carson Lancaster, and more recently contemporary painters such as Bertrand Fournier and Kevin Perkins. Does this range of artists and mediums reflect your personal interests? And how do you select which artists to exhibit?
BM: We try to show a diverse range of works that are entirely unique, whilst highlighting possible underlying connections or similarities, as well as playing with ways in which differing styles contrast. We spend a lot of time going to shows, as well as countless hours on social media, scrolling through things like Instagram looking for new talent. We also run a separate Instagram account called @Daily_Contemporary_Art, which is great for discovering new artists. Every week a new artist has control of the account and shares their favourite living artists, and we find that it is often the student artists that share the most exciting work.
HC: You also had your most recent solo exhibition, Lavish Entropy, at the gallery earlier this year. How did this experience compare to your previous shows, acting as not only the artist but also the gallerist/curator?
BM: It was great, I often take a quite hands-on approach to the curation of my own shows anyway (often aided by Nick), so in that sense, this was no different. I’d recommend every artist do this at least once in your career, as when you have full creative control over something you can be as wild and as experimental as you like without anyone trying to curtail your vision. Don’t get me wrong – the curatorial teams at galleries are often incredibly helpful and teach me things about my own work that I wouldn’t have realised otherwise, but it can be incredibly freeing having absolutely no constraints sometimes. This kind of thing is great, and you are able to take bigger risks than usual, and this teaches you what does and doesn’t work in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to see without this freedom.
HC: This year the gallery ran your inaugural Open Call submission exhibition, why did you want to undertake this competition? And what did you learn from this first iteration?
BM: It was so great, and through it we discovered so much great art we wouldn’t have done if it weren’t for the open call. We wanted to make it as easy as possible to submit, so as to get the most submissions possible. We didn’t charge for entry, and our good friends at theprintspace printed and mounted it all for us, so there was no cost to the artists. This also meant that, as the artists only had to send us a jpeg, artists from all over the world could submit and not have to worry about shipping or insuring their work. We received over 8000 submissions in total and were awestruck by the diversity of it. There are many artists who we would have loved to have included but couldn’t because of size and space constraints. As well as Florence Hutchings, another of our favourite artists Bertrand Fournier entered, whom we hope to present a solo show with next year.
HC: For your latest exhibition, Florence Hutchings, who won the aforementioned Open Call competition, presents her debut solo show, Seating Arrangements. How important is it for you to champion young artists such as Florence?
BM: Florence is great, she has done so incredibly well at such a young age and yet still doesn’t really seem phased by it all. She is very down-to-earth, which is nice to see from someone who is already reaching levels of success that most artists can only dream of.
We aim to discover and support young, emerging artists because we feel this is where the most exciting and unique work is coming from. We are in a position to be able to help out the careers of these young artists like people did for us when we first started showing, so it is incredibly rewarding in that respect.
We get to nurture this often raw and unbridled talent early on in an artist’s career, and look forward to the time when artists like Florence outgrow us and sign with Gagosian – for it will happen, especially in her case.
To read this over on Arrested Motion, click THIS LINK
For his first solo exhibition at Beers London, Andy Dixon presents Alchemy, an exhibition that brings together a collection of artworks depicting paintings-of-paintings and patrons’ homes.
Art has long had a tumultuous relationship with the matter of its own value. Seemingly arbitrary elements can positively or adversely affect the price at which a painting will sell. Take colour, for instance – paintings prominently featuring the colour red, for example, sell for a higher price point, due to it being a lucky colour in the Asian market.
Dixon plays with this discussion and subverts it somewhat, asking the question: what is the value of a painting of a valuable object? By depicting his own paintings situated in the living spaces of his patrons, he is adding to a lineage of artist studio paintings, in which the artist would paint their immediate surroundings. In the case of Matisse’s Red Studio, for example, these would often include examples of unfinished artworks. In Dixon’s pieces, the artworks’ grandiose properties seem diminished – their vividness lost amongst the similarly brightly-hued surroundings. They become just another item of furniture. Whilst Dixon most often depicts objects of wealth as created by others in his work – Versace jackets, silk shirts, Jeff Koons tote bags – in this series, he points to his own paintings as the commodity. In doing so, he knowingly eschews the creative aspects of his paintings for the commercial ones.
It seems that Dixon has become willingly complicit in ‘the game’ which he has thus far admired from a short distance – but this is clearly the natural progression for his work. Other pieces on exhibit are those that can be interpreted as paintings-of-paintings, where acid-tinged renditions of reclining Venusses, equestrian portraits and erotic renaissance pieces are bordered by candy-hued gilded frames rendered in paint. By focussing on the depiction of these artistic tropes with such a contemporary style and colour palette, Dixon forces us to view them in a new light – without the barriers of who painted the work, or when it was created, we are forced to look at what is depicted on a much more surface level, and consider the capitalistic implications.The title of the show, Alchemy, is a reference to the traditional pursuit of turning a base metal into gold. And this is what Dixon manages to do so masterfully; he takes images which are so ubiquitous in Western art and, through his own kind of magic, creates something wholly new and desirable out of them.
Andy Dixon is hyper-aware of art’s relationship with money. Signifiers of wealth abound in his large acrylic paintings, which take as their subjects stately lords, reclining nudes, ornate ballrooms, bathing beauties, and prominent paintings of the aforementioned motifs. Borrowing content from Renaissance art, Flemish still lifes, and Google Image searches of “most expensive vases”, his subject matter is selected on the basis of public expectation of what an expensive painting should look like. By sampling content verified as valuable by the market, Dixon positions his own work to ask, “What is the value of a painting of a valuable object?”
Our value of art is truly a phenomenon that operates on a set of rules distinct from the ones that govern the rest of our world. Paintings which feature the tropes Dixon samples from perhaps at one time had social or political agency but are now simply commodities assigned value by the highest bidder. Paintings of expensive things are themselves expensive things collected by the wealthy to promote the luxury lifestyle. However, Dixon isn’t out to mock the affluent. Rather, he is a complicit player in the game; his larger paintings of upper class social scenes tend to feature his own previous paintings hanging on the walls in the background. As Alex Quicho writes in Luxury Object, Luxury Subject, “His postmodern non-interest in either vilifying or reifying luxury cooly transmutes its weirdness.” A self-taught painter, he treats his high-brow content in a crude manner, matching a vivid pastel palette with rough line treatment. His practice has recently expanded to include 3D sculptures which mimic the figures in his paintings—absurdly disproportionate, yet still created with an eye toward beauty. In this way, Dixon’s own appreciation of his subject matter is evident; and while his work questions the subjective valuation of artwork, it also proves that it doesn’t necessarily detract from its beauty.
ANDY DIXON (b. 1979, Vancouver, Canada) lives and works in Los Angeles, California. Solo exhibitions include: ‘Expensive Things II’, Winsor Gallery, Art Toronto (2016); ‘Expensive Things I’, Winsor Gallery, Art Toronto (2016); and ‘Leisure Studies’, RHG, New York (2015). Group exhibitions include: ’10 Year Anniversary’, Joshua Liner Gallery, New York (2018); ‘Art Seattle’, Windsor Gallery, Seattle (2017); and ‘Art Toronto’, Windsor gallery, Toronto (2016). Dixon first group exhibition with BEERS London was in ‘O Canada!’ (2017). Dixon’s solo showings with BEERS London include ‘Pronk!’, Volta Art Fair, New York (2017); and ‘How Much do They Cost?’, Pulse Art Fair, Miami (2017); with an upcoming solo show in the London gallery in October 2018.
Before this, Beers hosted Kim Dorland’s great show, which can be read about HERE.
West London Art Factory invites you to spend an evening with accredited artist Benjamin Murphy, learning to create your own artwork using electrical tape alone. This unique medium is one that makes Benjamin’s work instantly recognisable, as well as its monochromatic themes and figurative subjects. The masterclass offers you an opportunity to watch Benjamin’s process of creating his work and learn these techniques first hand, working with Ben to create your own unique piece. The class will begin with a welcome, followed by a demonstration by Benjamin then an opportunity for you to create your own work, guided by Benjamin, using a number of colours and tapes available, on an A3 perspex sheet. The result will be an original piece of art for you to take home.
No prior experience is needed, all levels are welcome and all material is provided. Drinks and refreshments will be available.
Please note, this class has limited spaces so be sure to secure your place!!
We recently asked 43 of our favourite artists, what is the one thing about the art world that they would disappear forever. Below are their answers.
Paul Weiner (@POWeiner) – American art school admissions and recruiting offices that convince unwitting 17 year olds to waste tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars while promising services and career advice they aren’t capable of rendering.
Charley Peters (@CharleyPeters) – Private Views where the wine is served out of plastic cups.
Remi Rough (@RemiRough) – The way galleries are completely unapproachable… if you want a job in hospitality you send your CV off in the art world sending work to a gallery is completely taboo!?
Jonny Green (@JonnyGreenArt) – The class system.
Richard Stone (@Artist_Stone) – I think the art world makes itself up as it goes along, there’s art worlds within worlds too and this can be incredibly frustrating for anyone. However, there’s always a few heroes, people like Michael Petry who go out of their way to shake things up, like curating emerging artists with very established, or challenging gender or sexuality disparity within art institutions for example.
Kevin Perkins (@Kevin_Perkins_) – Damien Hirst (can I say that?).
Sally Bourke (@Justondark) – Art prizes.
Klone Yourself (@KloneYourself) – I’m afraid it’s like Jenga, you take out one piece and everything might fall apart. But as an experiment I’d love to take out the ego from the art world and see what will happen.
Lee Johnson (@LeeJohnson.eu) – Reliance on – and (ab)use of – gallery interns ought to be overhauled. And exhibition ticket prices. I used to work in museums and know how expensive loans and insurance can be for blockbuster shows, but so many people can’t afford over £20 for a ticket.
Jenny Brosinski (@Jenny_Brosisnski) – Depressions.
Andy Dixon (@Andy.Dxn) – Honestly, I’ve learned to respect all aspects of the art world, even the elements that some may describe as dark or ugly. It’s like a fragile eco-system, you can’t just remove the dangerous tigers from the jungle and not expect the whole thing to fall apart.
Daisy Parris (@DaisyParris) – Exploitation of young artists.
Benjamin Murphy (@BenjaminMurphy_) – Contemporary Pop Art, or more specifically, 90% of Contemporary Pop Art. People need to stop with the painting of celebrities, and stop trying to be Andy Warhol.
Jake Chapman (@JakeChapmaniac) – Paint.
Tom Anholt (@TomAnholt) – Obsession of finding trends.
Spencer Shakespeare (@SpencerShakespeare) -Superficial privileged idiots. (I might be one of them I know).
Rowan Newton (@Rowan_Newton) – Galleries playing it safe.
Hayden Kays (@HaydenKays) – The thinking that it is of more importance than the real world.
Matthew Allen (@Matthew__Allen) – ATTITUDE!
Rae Hicks (@Rae_Hicks_On_Gangs) – Exploitation/people working for free and the static, non-flow of money.
Jonni Cheatwood (@Jonni_Cheatwood) – I have a love/hate relationship with the social media aspect of the art world. I’m grateful for the artist appreciation accounts that have posted my work because I have had some badass opportunities come my way as a result; but I have a hard time with it as well. Social media gives everyone a voice, which is incredible when it’s used for good, but it can be a dangerous place.
Andrew Salgado (@Andrew.Salgado.Art) – the horrible self-important attitudes that accompany a lot of people in the industry. Unfortunately, a lot of people tend to be total ego-trips and profoundly unlikable.
Soumya Netrabile (@Netrabile) – I don’t know enough about it to have a strong opinion on the matter, but I have heard lots of people complain about the exclusivity—how hard it is to get your work seen by galleries.
Luke Hannam (@LukeHannamPaintings) – I hate the following words: works, practice, and contemporary.
Hedley Roberts (@HedleyRoberts) – Wannabe artists, curators, gallerists and dealers. These are really tough jobs to do well, they’re not lifestyle options.
Nick JS Thompson (@nickjsthompson) – Exhibition descriptions that are so “art speak” that it makes them exclusionary.
Neva Hosking (@NevaHosking) – Networking!
Erin Lawlor (@TheErinLawlor) – Pot plants in installations.
Tony Riff (@TonyRiff) – Egos… to be fair I haven’t really experienced much of that personally, but I’ve heard plenty of horror stories.
Justin Lee Williams (@ArtJLW) – I love and hate it all, so I’m not sure on this one…
Wingshan Smith (@wingshansmith) – Zero-hour contracts and grey carpets at art fairs.
Fiona Grady (@Fiona_Grady) – Unpaid ‘opportunities,’ occasionally I’m approached by companies offering me a commission where there’s no fee or money for materials. You’d never ask a decorator to paint your house for free and tell them it’s a good opportunity for exposure – there needs to be a better culture in the arts for paying artists fairly.
Jordy Kerwick (@JordyKerwick) – Snobs.
Obit (@LazyObit) – Bloggers. They’re pointless, they’re powerless and they’re parasites.
Johnny Thornton (@_JohnnyThornton) – The pretension and elitism that exists in parts of the NYC art scene.
Magnus Gjoen (@MagnusGjoen) – Artists obsessed with what everyone else is doing and not concentrating on their own craft.
Jesse Draxler (@JesseDraxler) – Everything besides the art.
Richie Culver (@RichieCulver) – Some of my early works.
Martin Lukac (@Martin.Lukac) – I don’t have any problems like that. Everything is balanced and time will prove what is good and what’s not.
Mevlana Lipp (@Mevlana_Lipp) – Sexism.
Danny Romeril (@D_Romeril) – The price of studios and paint.
Florence Hutchings (@FlorenceBH) – Art school snobbiness.
Catherine Haggarty (@Catherine_Haggarty) – Sometimes – instagram. But mostly white men who control shows and advertising and sales. Diversity is needed! Thankfully seeing more women run spaces and artists taking back control!
For more of these, see what the same artists would give as advice to young artists at the start of their careers HERE
What would YOU advise an artist at the beginning of their career? Let us know in the comments below.
Chris Burden sadly died in 2015, but this weekend his posthumous show Measured opens at Gagosian. We at Delphian Gallery are very excited about the show!
September 29, 2018–January 26, 2019
Britannia Street, London
“Limits” is a relative term. Like beauty, it is often in the eye of the beholder.
Gagosian is pleased to present Measured, an exhibition of two large-scale works by Chris Burden: 1 Ton Crane Truck (2009) and Porsche with Meteorite (2013).
With a series of startling actions in the early 1970s, Burden challenged his own mental and physical limitations, and with them the boundaries of art and performance. Shut inside a locker for five days (Five Day Locker Piece, 1971), shot in the arm (Shoot, 1971), and nailed through the palms of his hands to the roof of his Volkswagen (Trans-fixed, 1974), he sought to reflect the violence that defined American politics, society, and media. Over the course of his career, the daring spirit of these early performances evolved into compelling large-scale sculptures that embody technical feats on an imposing scale. Burden used toys (figurines, train sets, Erector parts) as the building blocks for expansive scale models of skyscrapers, dystopic cities, and battlefields; conversely, he deployed actual vehicles (ships, trucks, and cars) in surreal and gravity-defying ways.
At the Britannia Street galleries, a functional 1964 F350 Ford crane-truck is held in balance with the weight of a one-ton cast-iron cube, and a Porsche 914 sports car is suspended in equilibrium with a meteorite. Both vehicles have been restored to pristine condition using contemporary materials, from fresh paint to new tires. In 1 Ton Crane Truck, the Ford is painted bright orange and the custom-made cube suspended from its crane boom announces its weight—“1 TON”—in recessed lettering, forcing the viewer to consider the physical capacities of the familiar American vehicle.
Burden pushed this precarious sense of balance even further in Porsche with Meteorite. Like a giant seesaw, a yellow Porsche and a nickel-iron meteorite hang from either end of a steel beam. The fulcrum, placed off-center, distributes the weight so that both objects are raised from the floor. The Porsche, at 993.4 kilograms (2,190 lbs.), weighs down the short end of the beam, and the meteorite, at 176.9 kilograms (390 lbs.), counterbalances it on the long end. Porsche with Meteorite thus draws attention to the relativity of size, weight, and value, juxtaposing refined German manufacture with an extraterrestrial metal chunk.
Ceramics and other mediums of tactile sculpture are having a real revival in popularity at the moment, so here is our list of the ten most exciting ceramicists that you should be following on Instagram right now.
Kevin McNamee-Tweed (@CottonTweed)
Kevin’s ceramics are often two-dimensional and wall-mounted, making them both painting and sculpture in one. The way in which he creates the lines is by inscribing them into the raw clay pre-firing.
View this post on Instagram
Frederik Næblerød (@Naeblerod)
Frederik is a painter as well as one of the best ceramicists, but we couldn’t leave him off the list when he does such incredible work as this gold head below.
Brian Rochefort (@EnergyGloop)
The textures and colours in Brian’s work make them look so tasty that we just want to eat them.
Dan T Mccarthy (@DanTMccarthy)
It is impossible to not love Dan’s quirky ‘Facepots’,
Tom Volkaert (@C0ldChain)
Tom’s work is messy and disordered, and immensely beautiful.
Laurence Owen (@LaurenceOwen)
“He employs the recognisable with connotative values that we associate with object and time. By considering Folklore, Paganism and early Mythology he investigates how these specific belief systems are connected to contemporary consumerist culture through ideas of ritual and worship.”