Tag Archive - London

The Owiny Sigoma Band: Pick of the Week

Here at Gwarlingo I’ve been neglecting the musicians in recent weeks. I’ve been consumed with Irene, the secret gardens of Rockefeller Center, Jane Hirshfield’s new book, poetry bombing, Barry Underwood’s incredible landscape photographs, and these Japanese manhole covers, which have suddenly gone viral after being posted on Andrew Sullivan’s The Dish (now on The Daily Beast site).

So Before Labor Day weekend arrives and sunset swims in the lake give way to apple picking, I want to pass along one of my favorite albums of the summer: the quirky, mesmerizing sounds of the Owiny Sigoma Band.

I discovered this band during my trip to London in June. This highly original, Nairobi-London sound clash, which blends traditional Kenyan Luo styles with contemporary western influences, is like nothing else I’ve heard before.

The project began when Jesse Hackett and other members of the electronic hip-hop and soul collective Elmore Judd went to Kenya at the invitation of Hetty Hughes and her friend Aaron Abraham, co-founders of an organization called Art of Protest, which promotes local musicians and rappers. In Kenya members of the band met Joseph Nyamungu, a master of the eight-stringed lyre known as the nyatiti, and a repository of knowledge regarding the traditional music of his tribe, the Luo of western Kenya.

 

The nyatiti is a five to eight-stringed plucked lyre. It is played by the Luo people of Western Kenya, typically in Benga music. It is about two to three feet long. The player holds it to the chest while seated on a low stool.

Nyamungu connected the band members with drummer Charles Owoko and other local percussionists. The group had no specific agenda other than to exchange ideas and enjoy their musical collaboration. They named themselves the Owiny Sigoma Band after Nyamungu’s music school and his late grandfather. These jam sessions “acted as a skills exchange and a way of sharing our music. We learned some of their songs and they learned some of our songs too,” explains the band’s drummer Tom Skinner.

The Brownswood record label site describes the musical collaboration in more detail:

Continue Reading…

This Revolution Is For Display Purposes Only: A Street Art Primer

In 2005 the English street artist Banksy did a series of paintings on the West Bank barrier. (Photo by Banksy)

On March 9, 2010 an artist named Sparrow Philips was convicted of defacing personal property in the Auckland District Court. The piece that got him arrested showed a man painting money over graffiti tags. According to Philips, “the money bags represent[ed] the money spent by the Auckland City Council to paint over tagging.” An hour after he left the courtroom, Philips was found painting on the walls of the Auckland City Art Gallery, where his work was on display. According to press reports, the exhibit was one of the gallery’s most popular shows.

Street artist Sparrow Philips was convicted for painting this stencil in the TV3 parking lot. (Photo courtesy of TV3)

There are few mediums that force us to rethink our definition of “art” the way street art does. A painting that is deemed “vandalism” one minute, can be publicly condoned and dubbed a valuable artwork the next.

In the book Street Art: The Graffiti Revolution, John Fekner defines street art as “all art on the street that’s not graffiti.” I like this definition because it excludes territorial graffiti and the deliberate destruction of private property (vandalism for vandalism’s sake), but is broad enough to include graffiti artwork, posters, guerilla art, video projections, sticker art, flash mobs, and everything in between.

Street art often has an activist thread. It may be subversive, playful, overtly political, or humorous. Commercial advertising is a frequent target. Some artists alter existing advertisements, while others challenge corporate advertising with their own original work. The English artist Banksy, one of the world’s most famous street artists, comments on advertising in his book Wall and Piece: ”The people who truly deface our neighbourhoods are the companies that scrawl giant slogans across buildings and buses trying to make us feel inadequate unless we buy their stuff. They expect to be able to shout their message in your face from every available surface but you’re never allowed to answer back. Well, they started the fight and the wall is the weapon of choice to hit them back.”

A piece of Paris street art by the French artist Invader (Photo courtesy Flickr Commons)

 

Advertising is a frequent target of street artists. (Photo courtesy WebUrbanist)

 

The work of Cedric Bernadotte on display in Pau, France (Photos from cedricbernadotte.com and Wikimedia Commons)

One of the characteristics of street art that I find most appealing is its egalitarianism. It is art that exists outside the museum. There are no gate keepers: no museum curators standing by giving their stamp of approval, there are no explanatory text panels, or security devices sending the message that the piece of art under protection is a precious, cultural treasure or a valuable commodity. There are no lines, no pricey tickets, no gift shops hocking art-embellished neck ties. All of this baggage falls away. Anyone can have a direct encounter with street art, and as we’ll see in my next article on Banksy, the response of a community is often as intriguing and important as the work itself.

The rawness of the encounter between the work and the viewer is one of the best qualities of the medium. When we encounter street art, we either like it or we don’t. We find it offensive or funny or true. Often these art works are appreciated and enjoyed by an audience that would never set foot inside of a museum. And for those of us who do frequent galleries and other art institutions, the street art experience resonates with immediacy.

On a recent trip to London, I came across this piece of street art in Charing Cross. I was filling time after a cancelled meeting, perusing the shelves of used bookshops, when I stumbled on this sign. I don’t know who made the piece, or how long it’s been there, but it didn’t matter. The sign amused me. It was a highlight in an otherwise lackluster day.

Street art in Charing Cross, London (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

Historical Graffiti (Photo by Clarissa Hughes)

London has been at the heart of the graffiti scene from the very beginning. In London: The Biography, Peter Ackroyd describes one of the first known pieces of graffiti written in a Roman hand–Publius and Titus are “‘hereby solemnly cursed.’” Ackroyd has done some digging and come up with a sampling of London graffiti from previous centuries: “‘Thomas Jordan cleaned this window, and damn the job, I say–1815.’” “‘Christ is God…No Coach Tax…Damn the Duke of Richmond!…Damn Pitt!’” were all popular in the year 1792. The most common graffiti in 1942 was “‘Strike in the West Now!,’ and in the later part of the century the two most formidable slogans were ‘George Davis is Innocent’ and ‘No Poll Tax.’” The desire to leave a human mark–some trace of individuality–in this bustling, anonymous city can be traced back to London’s earliest days.

While Bristol and London are certainly the two major street art hubs in the UK, street art is not strictly an urban phenomenon. During my visit to England, I also discovered this piece of stencil graffiti on the side of an old building in the countryside near Bath.

Continue Reading…

Gwarlingo Visits the Tate Modern

A painting from Cy Twombly's "Bacchus, Psilax, Mainomenos" series (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

This week I paid a visit to the Tate Modern in London. The museum is the most-visited modern art gallery in the world with over 4.7 million visitors a year. Currently, the Tate has special exhibitions by Joan Miró and Taryn Simon. (The Simon exhibit is particularly interesting, but more on that in a future Gwarlingo article).

Jenny Holzer's "Blue Purple Tilt" (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

Another painting in Cy Twombly's "Bacchus, Psilax, Mainomenos" series (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

Some of my favorite highlights from the Tate Modern’s collection were Jenny Holzer’s “Blue Purple Tilt“ and Cy Twombly’s striking Bacchus, Psilax, Mainomenos series, which is comprised of three large-scale, canvases covered in whorling, red brushstrokes. Like Matisse in his later years, Twombly created this 2005 series by attaching a paintbrush to the end of a long pole. The deep vermilion color is reminiscent of both blood and wine.

"Maroon and Orange" (Seagram Mural) by Mark Rothko (Courtesy photo)

The Tate’s Rothko Room, which showcases Mark Rothko’s luminous, large-scale murals originally commissioned for The Four Seasons Restaurant in the Seagram Building in New York, is particularly memorable and offers a welcome respite to weary museum-goers. Rothko’s soft-edged rectangles radiate deep maroon, orange, gray, and black and glow meditatively in the dimly lit gallery. I also enjoyed Cindy Sherman’s 1975 Super-8 film “Doll Clothes,” which dates back to Sherman’s art school days, as well as a collection of posters by The Guerilla Girls.

One of the many works by The Guerrilla Girls on view at the Tate Modern (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

While the gallery’s permanent collection of modern and contemporary art is excellent, what makes a visit to the Tate Modern especially memorable is the building itself. The museum is housed in the former Bankside Power Station on the south bank of the Thames River. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, the architect of the original station, was also the designer of the the now-famous, red telephone boxes scattered across Britain. The massive Turbine Hall, which once housed electricity generators, stands five stories tall and has 11,155 square feet of floor space.

The height of the power station chimney at the Tate Modern is 325 feet. It was intentionally built shorter than the Dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, which stands at 375 feet. (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

The architects Herzog & de Meuron wisely chose to retain the character of Scott’s original design and have successfully transformed this utilitarian building into an engaging public space. The old and the new complement each other perfectly. I was particularly struck by Herzog and de Meuron’s sensitivity to the surrounding vistas. There are numerous vantage points for visitors to enjoy. I found myself lingering in one gallery contemplating a panoramic view of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The way the scene is framed through the large, rectangular window encourages visitors to consider the cathedral as a work of art, just like the Twombly and Barnett Newman paintings hanging nearby. Another balcony offered a lovely vista of the river, Millennium Bridge, pigeon-filled courtyard, and London skyline.

View of Millennium Bridge from the third level gallery

A view of St. Paul's Cathedral and the Millennium Bridge from a third level gallery (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

St. Paul's Cathedral and the Millennium Bridge from the Tate Modern

A view of the London skyline from a balcony at the Tate Modern (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

But some of the most unique views were of the building’s own interior. Each level of the museum offered a different perspective of Turbine Hall. From the upper galleries I watched visitors move through the geometric shadows and ascend and descend the stairwell below. From this bird’s eye perspective, I had the sense that I was inside an M.C. Escher drawing. The Turbine Hall was especially striking at sunset as the light and shadows shifted minute by minute.

Looking down on a stairwell in Turbine Hall (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

A bird's eye view of Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

Turbine Hall in the late afternoon (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

The hall at sunset (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

Between October and March each year, the Tate Modern uses the hall to display large commissioned pieces by contemporary artists. Louise Bourgeois was the first artist commissioned to create a special installation for the space. Since Bourgeois’s 2000 piece “I Do, I Undo, I Redo,” a number of memorable works have been installed there. Olafur Eliasson filled the space with a giant orange sun (“The Weather Project”), Rachel Whiteread cast and stacked 14,000 white boxes (“Embankment”), Doris Salcedo created a giant crack running down the center of the hall (“Shibboleth”), and Chinese artist Ai Weiwei filled the massive room with 100 million porcelain sunflower seeds.

Continue Reading…