Simon Birch’s work has to do with motion, colour, and the moment. The fleeting moment. This work reaches out and grabs your attention.
Simon Birch is a painter and multimedia artist of Armenian descent, born in Brighton in 1975 and resides in Hong Kong
When I was in my terror period, I was entranced by Joni Mitchell. Something about those big teeth and that lovely blonde hair. But she got too cute for me. And I discovered that I couldn’t stand her voice. (Couldn’t stand the voice of Janis Joplin, Aretha Franklin, or Joan Baez either. Loved Ella’s voice. Still do. And Peggy Lee. And Anita Day.) I decided to look at some of Ms. Mitchell’s art. I’ve always like it. But one subject she never seems tired of and that is herself. Or maybe that’s just show biz.
Flood’s work is more intellectual than visual. Everything is staged. I like that. So much of what appears in a photo is random, without significance. But in Flood’s work everything may be significant. Or not. And that says something both about the possibility of meaning in the universe, and the nature of man who is so naive/wonderfully inquisitive to imagine that meaning.
At first I thought they were photos. As soon as I realized (I read the caption) that they were paintings, my interest was piqued. I wondered why. Are paintings more intrinsically interesting than photos. Or is it that we believe that the painter, more than the photographer, has made decisions. On style, subject matter, content, perspective etc. Dan Witz. A strange dude.
Oscar Sancho Nin. I love this guy’s work. Maybe its the combination of flat surfaces and then scratchy or detailed outlines. And the mix of abstraction and figurative work. Which gives a new kind of life to figures. It reminds me of the work of Ed Kuris, one of my favourite artists and one of my oldest friends.
Almost as if he were replacing humans with animals. As if he were pointing out the spiritual qualities of animals as well as their suffering. Or so I think. His work does invite interpretation. It is not a benign study of animals. He is editorializing.
He was born in 1942. Under the murderer. Stalin. His paintings have a strange attraction. Their monumental almost medieval story telling. Stained with red and haunted by darkness the paintings almost seem wistful. Or perhaps that is my optimistic spirit. Except that I’m not an optimist.
Maybe its like a great idea in a high school photography class. But still it is interesting. Though I can see it becoming tedious after a while.
Stanley Spencer was one strange man. You can see it in his paintings. It is difficult to comprehend that he was born in the late 1800s. His work seems so contemporary. He seems to have so many stories to tell. Each canvas is like a short story. His paintings of historical events look like events of his own time. And the figures in them appear almost like caricatures of real people. Exaggerations. Everything is a commentary. Wonderful work.
So many of my ideas, my reactions to the art world appear in this program. I almost remember seeing this many years ago. I feel like I was used. As a blank tape I seemed to have recorded so much. Which makes me wonder about any so called original ideas I thought I had. I love the program. Like I love my own thoughts. Agreeing with ideas is a form of vanity. This is a long program, almost an hour. But its a great story.
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