Showing posts with label Art in Unusual Spaces. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art in Unusual Spaces. Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Black Dogs: Next to Nothing



Black Dogs: Next to Nothing, an exhibition of the price of nothing and the value of everything, opens this coming Thursday. The exhibition contains work from over 30 individual artists and contributors, whose work has arisen from a series of discussions around themes of worth and value. The exhibition is in a disused shop unit on the 3rd floor of The Light - which is one of Leeds' 'destination' shopping centres. Luckily, the manager doesn't seem to mind having a critique of materialism installed there for 2 weeks.

Leeds' DIY art collective Black Dogs have been active since about 2003. Completely self-organised, voluntary and non-profit, the ethos is one of non-corporatism and being non market-driven. The Next To Nothing exhibition will pose questions connected to those themes: "What is the radical potential of thrift and an economical approach? When and why is something cheap? What does it mean to be not-for-profit or operate in a non-capitalist fashion? How do we value our time and how does this find expression through the things we do or make? When are we working and when do we play?"

The preview evening will be on Thursday 15th September, from 5-8. The exhibition is open until the 1st October, and its opening hours will be: 4-7 Mondays - Fridays, and 10-6 Saturdays.

Currently reading

The Millstone Margaret Drabble
Three to See the King Magnus Mills

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Next to Nothing




It's been a busy summer. The second rewrite of the novel is almost done, and as well as getting ready for a spoken word appearance at the sadly cancelled Beacons festival, I've also been preparing some flash fiction for an exhibition. Next To Nothing, a collaborative project by art collective Black Dogs, will open on September 15th in a disused shop unit in The Light in Leeds. It will contain works by various artists, performers and musicians exploring our notions of worth and value. My contribution has been to write and letterpress two short stories on the theme. Above you can see some of the words from the story 'Hourly Rate'. The typeface, Secession, is one that I bought on a recent letterpress expedition. I like this typeface because it's got a nice Art Deco look to it. Have a look below at all of the copies I printed!



Currently reading

The scheme for full employment Magnus Mills

Friday, 22 July 2011

Letterpress nerdery


Here is a picture of a nice dog I saw yesterday whilst on a print-related adventure.

Yesterday, I went to a strange place - a letterpress graveyard, if you will - with my letterpress conspirator, Nick. He had his eye on a proofing press, and I wanted to perv over many different kinds of type.

At the moment, I'm working on several letter-press projects. One is a collection of micro-stories for an exhibition themed 'Next to Nothing'. I'll letterpress print the stories and show them in the exhibition, which is going to be in a disused shop unit in Leeds later on in the year. There will be three stories, and my aim is to print each using a different typeface... so I needed to get my mucky little paws on some more of those lovely letters!

The chap who runs the strange place used to work with computers, and has gradually moved, bit by bit, into the world of antiquary. While we were there, he mentioned in passing that he would never go back to working back with new technology again. The mainstay of his business is in repairing and moving printing presses, but incidental to that has a massive collection of trays of type, printing press spare parts, and everything that goes along with it. Cases reached from floor to ceiling, each full with type trays. There were lots of rare typefaces, in all shapes and sizes, and I spent a pleasant hour standing on chairs and climbing over printing presses to look at them. I came away with two trays of an 20s style art-deco typeface which so rare it isn't in any of the books. (This is what I'll be using to print one of the stories).

In addition, the guy was looking after two of his friends' dogs and they were both running around the yard, yapping and getting excited. Here's a picture of them in action.

Friday, 1 April 2011

Precarious working...

Over the past couple of weeks a friend of mine, Grace Harrison, and her friend Rachel Cloughton, have been running an art project in a reclaimed arts space called Alternative Strategies. For two weeks there have been lively debates, discussions, screenings, and workshops around the subject of self-organised learning:

The project intends to expose the many alternative educational platforms active in the city, bringing together groups and individuals with art as its departure point.

Many local arts groups and organisations have been involved in the discussions and workshops, and the subject of how we can educate ourselves seems now more pertinent than ever in a month when many universities have announced that they will charge the maximum capped fee of £9,000 a year for their courses.

I went along one night this week for the discussion on 'precarious working'. Precarious working is usually defined as the kind of work that is by nature insecure (it comes without a permanent contract or rights), poorly paid, comes without benefits, gifts its labourers no rights, and cannot financially support a household. Examples of precarious working can include work under zero-hours contracts, fixed-term contracts, and enforced self-employment. I was interested in this because I define myself as a precarious worker: although I'm in employment, I don't have a permanent employment contract, and haven't had one for a few years.

Precarious working can benefit the worker, as it gives her greater autonomy. But it's more likely to benefit the employer, as it means their workers have few or no employment rights - for example, right to redundancy payouts or maternity or sickness benefits, and little protection from stress or harassment at work. The effect of precarious working upon the worker is to give her no security, no 'safety net' - many precarious workers will force themselves to go into work when they're really not fit to work, because they won't get sick pay and can't afford to take the day off - and to make her feel isolated and alone. It's cheaper and easier for employers to offer this kind of work; it means less responsibility for them, and - if you want to be a cynic - it often means they can treat their employees poorly, and minimise the risk of being sued under employment law.

It was an enlightening discussion, and the people who participated were a diverse bunch. Less did we discuss the benefits of 'precarious working' (I think we were all agreed that precarious working is generally pretty lame), than its existence being a symptom of a larger problem.

There's a lot wrong with public sector cuts, and if I wanted to I could type about it all day; but I'll leave that for now, and come back to it another time.... needless to say, though, that one of the effects of the cuts has been to force millions out of work. Mass unemployment has a depressing impact on the labour market in any system. The effect of it is that those who want to work will gladly do it beneath their level of skill, experience and qualification, for less money than their skills demand, and sometimes for free. One of Tuesday's attendees summed it up well by saying: "What does an unemployed academic do? He just goes away and works harder somewhere else."

The drive to work isn't confined to academia, though. Lots of us will go on working regardless of the expectation to be paid for it. Writers, for example - yes, you lot, writers, I've seen your 39p royalty cheques - artists, musicians, and newly-graduated students who need experience. If we're not 'working', we're 'preparing for work' by training, studying, or doing an internship - and yet the points at which people are reimbursed for their efforts become rarer and rarer.

So what can we do? One of the conclusions of the discussion was that the concept of a union for precarious workers could be problematic. Many of the large unions that exist have histories in manufacturing, or in certain industries and sectors. If precarious workers are in a union at all - and many only join when they feel their job is in danger - it is in one aligned to their sector. It might be that there's little awareness amongst precarious workers that they have more in common with other precarious workers than more securely employed workers in their own sector; and there isn't an existing union specifically for precarious workers. Yet all were agreed that one of the effects of precarious working is to make the employee feel alone. We wondered whether precarious workers would feel able to band together in their places of work, to collectivise their resources and gain strength in unity. A lot of those attending were left with a lot of food for thought about how precarious workers could do this in their workplaces.

Someone told a heartening story about mill-workers during the industrial revolution. The term 'cottage industry' comes not from a person owning their own business and working for himself, but from people who were forced to work at home for the local millowner. Such workers had to pay to borrow looms from the factory owner, and often weren't paid for their work until it suited the factory owner. Angry homeworkers banded together with other angry homeworkers to hire many looms, and held them to ransom until the masters paid. Or, if they had hammers, they smashed them up.

I should state, by the way, that I do not agree that smashing machines with hammers is a good solution to the problem of precarious working. We are no longer in the 1800s, and I like machines, especially laptops. It is merely an illuminating tale about the possibility of strength through collectivisation.

Again, I should thank Grace for all the work she did at Alternative Strategies, and to Art In Unusual Spaces in Leeds. They have supported a lot of really interesting exhibitions in Leeds recently.


Currently reading

The Shadow of a Smile Kachi A. Ozumba
They Knew Mr Knight Dorothy Whipple