Wednesday, April 24, 2013

OI YOU! Adelaide Urban Art Festival


Banksy: “When you go to an art gallery you are simply a tourist looking at the trophy cabinet of a few millionaires.” At least, that’s what Banksy thought back in 2006.


These days the world’s most famous street artist is included within those trophy cabinets, one of which is on its way to Adelaide for your perusal. Oi You!’s main attraction is the collection of 70 works by ‘the world’s urban art megastars’ owned by New Zealand collector George Shaw. Whatever the collection’s current market value, it’s sure to go up after Oi You! has raised its profile.
Street art has been on a funny journey over recent years. The counter culture with roots in vandalism has become the bargain ingredient of urban renewal and the most reliable way for any major art gallery to capture a youth audience. As the fame of street art has grown and its contradictions thickened, most artists have continued along the path towards ‘legitimacy’ where large commissioned murals replace illegal graffiti. Festivals funded by energy drinks, videos produced by fashion magazines and murals commission by car companies have become the hallmarks of success in the industry of urban art. As artists hold financially lucrative exhibitions, their work on the street starts to function as advertising for their commercial ventures. For some, illegal graffiti was just the early stage in their careers as urban artists. For others, street art’s greatest power will always be its ability to question the value of private property and expand the scope of free expression within public space.
While conservative minds still perceive street art as the cure against graffiti, those who actually make street art realise its ability to cure conservative perceptions. On one level, liking street art makes it harder to dislike graffiti. Once you realise that the same artists are making both types of art, you have to stop and think.
But urban art’s greatest power is its ability to cure the fallacy that art is a luxury, belonging only to financial elites. Street art is free. Appearing spontaneously in public space means it belongs to all of us. As part of our everyday experience of the city it doesn’t require the protection of art institutions, the pretenses of official art theory or even the standard narrative of art history. In the tradition of the situationists, the urban art community is a separate entity from the art world.
The best thing about any festival like Oi You! is the effect it will have on the city. Thanks largely to the initiative of local artist Matt Stuckey, the city streets will soon play host to Anthony Lister, Rone and Beastman, three Australian artists whose work is already recognised globally. Behind the scenes they’ll be connecting with local artists for the first time and uncommissioned collaborations will appear. It’s this work that will capture the attention of the larger urban art community via the blogs that serve audiences around the world.
So if you have a spare wall in the city that’s facing a public space, the last week of April might be the perfect opportunity to start you’re own street art collection. Just give Matt Stuckey a call and make him an offer. Obviously you’ll have to share your wall with everyone else and you won’t be able to sell it, but that’s kind of the point.
Oi You! Adelaide Urban Art Festival
Adelaide Festival Centre
Saturday, April 20 to Sunday, June 2
Please note: The list of contributing artists continues to grow with additional new walls from Kab 101, Vans The Omega, Fredrock, Seb Humphreys, Gary Seaman, Jayson Fox, Yarnbombers, Matt Stuckey and an art giveaway by Rawhide.

Jennifer Moon @ Transmission, until 27 Apr


Unlike her domineering portrait suggests, Jennifer Moon is mild, almost apologetic, in person. As she explains her theories on the unifying potential of love between all people, it's very difficult to imagine that once upon a time she used pepper spray to rob people at ATMs in order to feed her heroin addiction. She freely admits her crime and the story of her subsequent incarceration because it makes her vulnerable, and being vulnerable leads to love.
On the first floor of Transmission are a series of photographs and correspondents from Moon's time in prison that make for a fascinating insight into the U.S. prison system. In the centre of the room are Moon's prison typewriter and a large pile of pamphlets that contain her manifesto for 'revolution.' The downstairs space is arranged as a Boot Camp for Revolutionaries, where the vulnerable artist will make volunteers into a vulnerable audience through a series of trust exercises designed to strip back their beliefs. Through this process they will reach a place of 'abundance.'
It's unusual to find such a cultish recipe for happiness presented through the context of contemporary art. While Moon resists the label of 'irony,' she does admit to her work's playfulness. The result is an excursion into the redemptive quality of love and one artist's attempt to systematise its transformative potential. Sure, it's a little messianic in a way that borrows heavily from Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and its honesty alone makes it worth an afternoon's curiosity but not a lifetime's commitment. After all, it's just contemporary art.

Anticipating the Future

Among the spectres of GSA’s Mackintosh Museum Polish artist Mariusz Tarkawian predicts the art of the future. 
Who among us hasn't wondered whether Damien Hirst will pickle his own body in a tank of formaldehyde as a posthumous self portrait? It seems so obvious that a failure on Hirst’s part to fulfill our expectations would be disappointing, almost as disappointing as when something so easily anticipated is fulfilled. When confronted with the banality of conceptual art, philistines are heard to moan, ‘my six year old could have made that.’ When they start saying, ‘my six year old saw this one coming,’ you know something's about to go out of fashion.
For Mariusz Tarkawian's first solo exhibition in the UK he's made a point of exposing the predictability of ‘leading’ artists by illustrating his own prophesies of their future work. “Some artists’ work is easier to predict than others,” he admits, slyly neglecting to comment on whether that should be viewed as a strength or a weakness. As for Tarkawian's own strengths, the most blatant is how prolific he is.1200 drawings fill the walls of the Mackintosh Museum in four separate series. When work is displayed on such a scale you can't hope to give equal time to each piece so you start looking for patterns, common threads and the odd stand-out work.
It seems fitting to discover that Tarkawian's main theme is history, the history of art and his personal history in discovering art. The largest of the four series is his attempt to reproduce every drawing he has ever made. At 770 drawings, it offers an impressive visual lexicon, from the earliest stick figures right up to copies of Botticelli's Birth of Venus.
Exhibitions Director Jenny Brownrigg believes the show “has real relevance to the context of an art school.” Indeed the drawings look right at home next to the school’s permanent collection of Classical Greek and Roman sculpture until you realise that these plaster replicas are no longer used as teaching aids but remain on prominent display as useful ornaments in a façade of tradition. Rather than produce a pleasing harmony with the exhibition, the sculptures actually serve to amplify the discordance that Tarkawian's work is exposing.
Confronted with one artist's ambition to rebuild history, you can't help but feel sorry for present and future generations of artists who inherit the broken traditions of art. When the only tradition left to break demands we break with tradition itself, you've got to ask yourself, what's so great about a future unburdened by the standards of the past? Especially when that future seems predictable. Tarkawian's drawings, with their explicit tributes to a broad history of art, speak of a desire to find continuity with that history rather than any serious foretelling of the future. There's a hint of mockery in his predictions, tempting us to get the laughter over and done with well before next season's novelty art has even had time to roll off the assembly line.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

How to Change the World

- This article was originally published by The Skinny on January 1st 2013 -

Believing that contemporary art is a trustworthy judge on the role of the economy may be a bit like believing that the tabloid press is a trustworthy judge on the value of privacy. While ECONOMY, an upcoming exhibition at CCA and Stills, aims to generate constructive public discussion, it seems doubtful that discussion will be heard over the roar of a $45 billion global art market. Indeed, many of the works in the exhibition will re-enter circulation as art commodities once the show has concluded. They might even enjoy a higher market value for their increased visibility. Although this seems unlikely for Andreas Gursky, whose 'art star' status was already an attractive promotional hook before his work was garnered for this show.

Of course, the apparent futility of it all isn't lost on the artists themselves. Jenny Marketou's video work We Love Candy but Our Passion Is Collecting Art stages the artist's confrontation with the economic function of art as it erodes her artistic ego and aspirations for 'changing the world.' No doubt a 30 minute video about rich kids and their art collections would make any artist feel disillusioned, if not nauseous. So why make it, unless your real intention is to illustrate some foregone conclusion?
One of the most powerful attributes of art is its ability to explore the truth without commanding us to follow a master ideology. Despite this, many artists prefer to simply conceal their ideology under a few layers of meaning so their audience can unwrap it for themselves and feel special, like a child on Christmas morning. One issue with an exhibition like ECONOMY is that its meaning has already been laid out by the curators before the viewers even enter the galleries. Their skill is not to conceal but to declaim the merits of their ideology. For ECONOMY it's a case of: Rich guys, bad. Poor guys, righteous.
When art is hijacked by politics in this way, nobody wins. The politics is reduced to dumb emotional gags and the art becomes a vessel with little value of its own. The latest and greatest example of this is 'socially engaged art,' a phrase that's all the more irritating in its implication that other art is somehow socially disengaged. Socially engaged artists don't make objects, they manipulate people into participating/collaborating in seemingly helpful activities. Basically, it's charity work with the pretence that artists are more creative than ordinary people, so that when they're doing charity work, it's actually art.
ECONOMY brings to Glasgow the artist collective WochenKlauser, who have been pioneering socially engaged art projects across the globe since 1992. In the Drumchapel area, they will "help to set up an association to encourage and support the foundation of a small worker self-managed cooperative." Although the cooperative movement has a long and rich history in Scotland, WochenKlauser will explore "what role art can play in effecting sustainable change – no matter how small – within the social fabric."
For all their sanctimonious horizon gazing, it's still doubtful that the devoutly Marxist artist is more annoying than the unapologetically capitalist one. They occupy opposite ends of the same boring fascination with money. In between, the vast majority of artists are busy inventing ways of sharing a sense of meaning that goes beyond money. Theirs is a difficult task, impossible actually, but it at least keeps them busy – they're discovering the infinite subtleties of how the world actually is, rather than how to change it.

Dexter Sinister at Tramway

- This review was originally published by The Skinny on Nov 8th 2012 -


There's something very appealing about an exhibition that politely ridicules global art brands like MoMA and Tate. Maybe it's because we've already noticed that something's amiss when those brands treat contemporary art like a fairground commodity. Personally, it's exactly the kind of critical discourse I came to Scotland to discover. Back home in Australia we have a long tradition of dutifully following European trends without assuming the authority to ridicule their direction. We usually have enough trouble simply justifying the existence of contemporary art, which most Australians treat with an air of suspicion. Having just arrived, I'm curious to discover whether Scotland suffers from the same affliction. Secretly I'm hoping that my new home is close to the action but with enough breathing room to avoid the hype.

The New York-based publishing and design duo Dexter Sinister (Stuart Bailey and David Reinfurt) have charted the malignant romance between art institutions and the world of corporate branding, especially graphic identity. Recently shown at Tramway, their work Identity consists of a half-hour video projection that alternates over three channels, accompanied by an annotated essay. The video narrates an abridged history of branding, the voice-over employing its commercialised semiotics.
I couldn't avoid the feeling that Tramway’s space had become a lecture theatre but it was the kind of lecture I was happy to receive because its structure demanded interpretation. So I sat and let the projection fill my brain with information and afterwards I felt smarter, partly because it made art institutions look a bit silly.
It seems that the big problem with branding major arts institutions is that the tail can start to wag the dog. When Tate brands itself to be "EVERYDAY not esoteric, ENJOYABLE not worthy," it's only a matter of time before artists strive to make everyday, enjoyable art that's anything but esoteric and worthy. In this way, marketing consultants formulate the vision for contemporary art that eventually trickles down to the artist who waits at the bottom of the food chain. The museum-going public is at the top of the hierarchy, so whatever gets 'em through the door at Tate Modern must be good. Once marketing starts to pull the strings, novelty takes over. The eventual benefactors of this cycle are the smaller arts communities that don't trivialise their practices in order to fulfill a brand. After all, why would anyone choose art that's been trivialised by branding when they can choose mass culture that's always going to be better at being trivial?
But rather than spelling out the end game of art's increasingly corporate mentality, Dexter Sinister's Identity concludes with the origins of identity, which the work's triangular structure conveys in a neat geometric metaphor about the nature of ideas: If you're at an impasse between two opposing points - let’s say, modernism and postmodernism - then you need a new idea, a third point to form a triangle and inside the triangle you'll have a new field of possibilities. After being shown the mess of generalisations that is corporate branding, this image of a clean, unadulterated triangle seems so simple that the complicated stuff appears all the more suspect. Perhaps a healthy dose of skepticism isn't such a bad thing after all?

Friday, August 24, 2012

THE HEART GARDEN

One of the best things I've found in Iceland is The Heart Garden, a derelict city block, reclaimed by the community and transformed into a park. Located right in the centre of Reykjavik The Heart Garden attracts a really wide variety of people but not everyone appreciates that the park is maintained by volunteers.

When I arrived a team of kids had just finished painting a slide. Another group were building their own skate ramp. Murals surrounding the park were being renewed, DJs and musicians play on a makeshift stage, kids breakdance, People bring their own beers and the park emits a rare kind of happiness that's totally contagious.  All that's missing is a BBQ.

I spoke to one of the volunteer organisers named Tanya as she swept up some rubbish from the night before "Sometimes drunken fools trash it but we just clean it the next day. The kids help. People just need to realise we're doing this ourselves. That's when they start to respect the place but sometimes its seriously disappointing." 

But Tanya didn't seem disappointed when I met her because the Heart Garden was full of life and it was easy to see why anyone would want to contribute to such a gem.

Follow the Heart Garden on facebook: (hjARTpark (Hjartagarðurinn)











Saturday, August 18, 2012

MY COLLECTION

Until Recently I've written a column for The Adelaide Review called my collection where I visits the art collections of everyday Adelaideans; people who collect art for the love, not to show off or use their purchases as an investment but rather the pure and simple joy of building an art collection.

all images by Jonathan VDK

MY COLLECTION

August, 2012
MY COLLECTION
Knowing who you really are takes constant practice but falling in love with someone else can sometimes help. Collecting a bit of art doesn’t hurt either. Naomi Murrell and partner Dave Stace have both love and art woven together in the jewellery label that forms the centre of their lives. Together they create and the art they collect fuels their creation. When their world demands too much, their collection provides a place to escape. But, most of all, their art collection reaffirms a curious connection that’s been there from the very beginning.
“In a way it’s my job to find, and show people, other ways of seeing,” Naomi says. “So living with the work of other artists reminds me of the perspectives that they’ve found.” Since the beginning, Naomi has been the point of origin for the label’s creative vision. “The art we collect does influence what I create but so does everything else. It’s like being a filter that takes everything in and refines it down to what’s essential.” Turning chaos into harmony is difficult in any medium but turning that harmony into a thriving business demands a different set of tools. “There’s only so many hats you can wear without going crazy,” Dave says. “I’ve always focussed on the strategy of the business.”
With these equal and opposite roles, together, they make it work. But in contrast to the madness, Naomi’s illustrations and jewellery display a delicate clarity that offers the eyes relief from the chaos of the mind. As items that mark Naomi’s pursuit of a unique aesthetic they are often treated as collectables by customers who recognise themselves in her work. “Those connections are what makes it worthwhile,” she says. “Often you find that the people who really connect with your work are actually kindred spirits.”
The same is true for the art that Naomi and Dave collect. Their first acquisition was a black and white illustration in pencil and gouache by Anna Creasy. “She’s actually moved to Canada,” Naomi says, “but we’ve been great friends for years now.” Creasy’s image is similar to Naomi’s own work with its elegant femininity but is distinctive in its mood. “She’s not just a pretty girl. She’s got an attitude,” Naomi says. “I also like my girls with attitude,” Dave quips.
Since that first step their collection has grown to include illustrative works by Melbourne-based artist Kat Macleod and local talent Matt Stuckey as well as a selection of limited edition prints. “When you look at the collection as a whole it all goes together even though it wasn’t planned that way. I think that’s how you know that you’re really collecting work you love… we never think of it as an investment.”
When a collection belongs to two people you would imagine there might be difficulties in deciding on new acquisitions but Naomi and Dave have no such trouble. “It’s kind of weird,” Dave explains, “we’ll be at an exhibition and when we tell each other which piece we like the best it’s always the same one. When you like something it’s instantaneous. Something just resonates and you know it’s going to continue that way.” And so it was when Naomi first noticed Dave. They were on the same train heading for a design conference and she asked to borrow a magazine. They spoke, something resonated, and soon they realised it was going to continue that way.
When it works, the love between any two people is a creative partnership but when those two people run a business based on creativity, that love flows all the way through. It comes out in what they make and the art they collect so that when they look back it’s easy to understand who they really are and why they connect. The art collected fuels the art created but it also reminds the artists where they belong and that they’re not alone. After all, creating can be a solitary endeavour so when two people can use art to share an understanding, they’re lucky. It’s one of the best things art can do.
                                                                                                                                                     

MY COLLECTION

June, 2012

MY COLLECTION
A good work of art only gets better with time. Like a relationship, it slowly deepens without you noticing. One way that art does this is by perfectly capturing your feelings at a particular stage in your life, so that every glance from then on brings back that time, those people and that place. Sometimes it’s as much about how you found the artwork, as it is about the work itself. That’s why a good gallery is more than just a clearing-house for art; it’s a point of orbit for an entire community of artists and collectors. Since opening in 2010, Magazine Gallery has been just that for many people. Now, as Magazine enters a new phase, its owners are creating fresh ways for their community to collect art and stay tethered to this time, this city and each other.
For Josh Fanning and Farrin Foster, starting an art collection was a natural extension of their relationship with Adelaide and its young artists. “When you collect an artist’s work,” Fanning says, “you get to know them over time and you start to realise that you’ve been contributing to them being an artist all along. It’s the sort of thing you can’t appreciate from a one off buy.” Their earliest acquisition was Pentapus by local artist Shane Devries who combines a mastery of traditional technique with a joyful imagination. The couple discovered Devries’ work at his first showing back in 2010. Since then Devries has shown nationally and his skills are becoming highly sought after
in animation.
As the couple’s hunger to contribute could no longer be satisfied by their own collection they started the gallery and soon enough the art was spilling onto the street. The murals at the front of the shop and the eastern side of the Morphett Street Bridge are proof of Fanning’s passion for public art. “I’m proud of them as an organiser because the city’s street art is a collection we can all share.” When it comes to acquiring for his personal collection, Fanning has a few simple rules. “I just count the brush marks,” he says jokingly but, in a way, he also means it. “Skill goes a long way. When you look at a really impressive painting and think, ‘I can’t do that’ it gives the image a lot of energy that you can draw from.”
For Foster, the reasons behind collecting are obvious. “It’s just communication. The reason I’ll buy a piece of art is the same reason I’ll buy a book or a magazine, because the artist is saying something that I like.” Following this, it makes sense that the gallery now displays more than just art. A select range of quality magazines from around the world combined with a cafe menu makes Magazine Gallery a place to stay and relax. “Buying art is really personal,” Foster says, “because it means you own a little bit of someone’s history. To do it properly you need to stop for a moment and take it in and the store creates that opportunity for collectors but also for people who wouldn’t normally buy art.”
But even with delicious cakes a gallery can’t make art better than it really is; it can only give you time to take in its subtler qualities. Sometime the image that jumps out at you can get pretty tiresome when it’s still trying to jump out at you six months down the track. Good art reveals itself over time and the best never reveals itself fully. When you find an image that does this, you’ve found a safe time capsule for your memories. You can drop your feelings inside, secure in the knowledge that when you return it’ll be waiting there, better than before.
                                                                                                                                            

MY COLLECTION
May, 2012
MY COLLECTION
I believe in luck and that some people have more of it than others. One such person is Greg Hanisch, owner of Central Art Supplies at the Central School of Art in Norwood. I’m making this claim based on the way that most of Greg’s stories tend to reach an oddly favourable outcome in a way that often provokes that feeling of “why can’t that sort of thing happen to me?” In the game of art collecting, a bit of luck can go a long way and the stories behind Greg’s collection are testament to that. But, to be fair, it’s not just luck because Greg’s position and expertise do give him a considerable advantage. In Greg’s own words “you make you own luck. It’s something you create”.
Unlike most art suppliers Greg owns and runs the shop on his own, so his customers know they’re going to see him personally, which is handy because Greg knows everything about the materials he sells. As a result, Central is the supplier of choice for emerging and established artists alike and it’s these relationships that have allowed Greg to build an art collection that rotates constantly between his home and the shop. But occasionally luck plays its part like the time Greg found a painting that had been gathering dust in the school’s corridor. Left years ago, the study of a nude was gradually being nudged towards the school’s skip until its quality caught Greg’s eye and he decided to mount it in the shop. Before long someone identified the artist as Fleur Elise Noble who studied at the Central School before she was swept away by a string of international career opportunities. So, when a girl suddenly appeared in the shop and demanded to know why Greg had the work, he didn’t guess that it was Noble herself. “Oh, I’ll get it down for you,” Greg offered. “No,” she said. “It looks fine there. You keep it.” Ever since, that painting has caught the eye of every customer who enters the shop. Of course Greg insists that his feeling of ownership towards that particular work are no more than that of a custodian, which is a nice thing to say but it doesn’t make him any less lucky.
But perhaps Greg’s best story of lucky art acquisition begins around 1889 with a young Hans Heysen who, at 12 years of age, was a long way from becoming one of Australia’s most renowned artists. At the time old Mrs Heysen was ill, so Hans and his siblings were farmed out to friends and family who stepped in to help. It turns out that the young Hans Heysen stayed with Greg’s grandmother. During his stay Hans completed a small, dark oil painting of the Torrens River that became his gift to Greg’s grandmother as a token of thanks for her hospitality. Years later, the painting was passed down to Greg, not because he asked for it but because “nobody else wanted it! I guess they figured I was the arty one in the family,” Greg said with a wry smile.
What is, perhaps, most interesting about the painting is that it predates Heysen’s excursion to Europe where he acquired the techniques that made his later achievements possible. Therefore, being technically naive, we are offered a glimpse at what the young Heysen was able to teach himself. For anyone interested in the question of ‘what is talent and to what extent is it owed to nature or nurture?’ early works like Greg’s Heysen are hard to come by and highly sought after. But Greg mostly values the work for its connection to his family, which goes beyond the measure of art history.
For all Greg’s luck his art collecting is actually guided by a few principles that tend to make all the difference. His taste is toward modernism and interest in irregularity or quirkiness but, probably most importantly, what Greg looks for is technique. In cultivating a taste for art nothing carries as much weight as understanding the nuts and bolts of how a work is actually constructed. It affords the viewer added appreciation for the techniques that have passed down through hundreds of years, marking the growth of civilization itself. Such things can be difficult to comprehend, let alone appreciate, in this age of instant imagery. The notion that an artist develops their abilities over an entire life span becomes more foreign every day. It’s easier to believe in luck. Even if it’s not true, luck tends to make for a better story because, whether we’re making art or collecting it, luck is just a clever way of making it look easy.
                                                                                                                                          

MY COLLECTION
April, 2012
MY COLLECTION
Creativity is arguably the will to act upon one’s imagination. We all have an imagination, at least we do when we’re children, but not all of us have the time, resources or supportive surroundings to make the most of it. If you’ve been clever enough to make it all the way to adulthood with your imagination intact then you’re doing pretty well. Now you just have to make it through your career.
But when rationality is the key to economic success our imaginations often have trouble finding a place in our careers. Sadly, it’s usually up to us to build a home for our imaginations, a place where they’ll be safe and well fed. Some of us do this by reading books, some of us customise our bicycles and some of us collect art.
Gaby French is naturally creative but judging from her appearance at work you wouldn’t guess it. While her colleagues’ workstations display everything from family photos to sporting memorabilia, Gaby’s desk is spartan in comparison. No photos, no trinkets, nothing. It’s not that a corporate setting doesn’t allow enough room for personal expression, it’s just that Gaby doesn’t want those two worlds to collide.
“I wanted to bring this into work,” Gaby said, holding a postcard size artwork, “but I knew it would just remind me of all this,” she said while gesturing to the walls of her home that are covered in art. There’s a lot of it, almost like a special layer of insulation where walls keep the weather out and the art keeps the imagination in. 
“I spend a lot of time at home, so I’d probably go stir crazy without it. I also enjoy making art. Part of me wonders what might have happened if I took it more seriously… I guess collecting art is how I scratch that itch.”
Sam Evans’ work stands out in Gaby’s collection. “I first discovered Sam’s work through his street art, which you can see all over town. I looked him up online and he said I could visit his studio, so I did. When we met he gave me a painting! Now we run into each other pretty regularly at exhibition openings.”
Gaby’s collection now holds dozens of works by Sam Evans that together display the artist’s progression over time. But with Evans that progression is particularly pronounced because the characters and situations he depicts have a way of suggesting a secret inner narrative that runs through all his work and ties it together. Like scenes from a tragic comedy, Evans’ images convey an air of parable about them that makes you listen. The more you see his work the easier it becomes to hear. It’s this journey that the one-off art buyer misses out on.
For the last six months that journey has extended to Europe as Evans travelled to Berlin before heading down to Portugal for the winter. Gaby and plenty of others have been able to follow his trip via his blog where he updates the various exhibitions and installations he leaves along the way. But unlike other artists’ blogs, he offers an insight into the creative process through the people and experiences that inform the work, making for a richer picture come exhibition time.
For fans of Sam’s work his blog offers a way to keep pace with his adventure but for Gaby it’s also a good way to stay in touch with a friend. 
“We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well but I still don’t know what’s coming next. That’s one of the things I like most about Sam’s work, it’s full of surprises, just like Sam.”
You can follow Sam’s journey via artofsamevens.blogspot.com.au
                                                                                                                                      

MY COLLECTION
March, 2012
MY COLLECTION
Australians have a fear of showing off. We don't like doing it and when others show off we like it even less. Arguably there are benefits to this polite mediocrity but there are definitely costs, especially in the arts, an area of life that relies on showing off. Although most of us own art we seem to feel more comfortable showing off holiday snaps or photos of our cats before we reveal our art collections. It's a minor taboo but, like most taboos, it's fun to break. I guess nobody wants to come across like a snob but if we've all got art it seems silly to hide it away and pretend it doesn't exist. Nick Newland isn't an art collector; he's a chef who collects art. Working behind the scenes at The Greek on Halifax can get pretty hectic. Each week they seat almost a thousand people, every one of them expecting a high standard. So, like anyone whose work is demanding, it's good to have something to escape to. For Newland it’s his collection. Computer games also help.
"It's not a massive collection or anything but I'll keep going with it. It's the sort of thing that can grow slowly,” Newland explains. For Newland it began with family and music. His mother is an artist. His sister, Sophie Newland, studied painting and glass at UniSA. But Newland's own collection started with a print (woodblock) by Romiro Rodriguez who he discovered through his cover art for the band Tool. But his latest and favourite acquisition is a painting by Melbourne-based artist Jeremy Piert.
As you enter Newland's living room the fox eyes grab you. Staring out from a flame of red fur, the animal fixes you with a stare that's strangely human.
"I can't stop looking at it,” Newland says. “My mum commissioned it from Jeremy for my 30th birthday. He knows I like foxes, so in a weird kind of way it's a portrait."
Originally from Adelaide, Jeremy Piert's work often subverts the imagery of corporate branding and recently he's found a poignant tension between those brands and the mysterious innocence of animals. But Newland's fox, titled Never More has no brand. It's a painting that marks the connection and understanding between people in the real world. Principally that connection runs between Nick Newland and Jeremy Piert but when an image is shared, its connections grow. Art can do this unlike anything else. As more people share in an image and its connections broaden, so too does the shared sense of understanding between that audience. But, like most commissions, Never More was never exhibited and might have remained hidden for a long time.
"I wouldn't buy it if I didn't want to look at it everyday,” Newland explains. “I'm not really interested in what it's going to be worth in 20 years. I don't go to heaps of exhibitions but when I do I always look at the work. That's the point, right?" Well, you'd think so. While some consider their mere presence at exhibitions to be contribution enough for their reward of free drinks, most of us understand the pleasure of actually collecting. The problem is that once the works disappear into peoples’ homes they're never to be seen again besides close friends and family. That's why there's really no way to tell who are the scenesters and who are the people who actually care about art enough to live with it. One solution is a little more showing off.
Jeremy Piert next exhibits in a group portraiture show at the Poimena Gallery in the first week of April.