For most part I haven’t been feeling like writing too much. I’ve been dealing with trouble regarding love. The sort of thing that keeps it going is that chapter in ‘Portnoy’s Complaint’ called ‘Whacking Off’. A lot has happened since. I lost my virginity to Rowan Smith’s girlfriend and Matthew Partridge lost an eyebrow. A friend accidentally, and occasionally unplugs the external to make Marmite toast.

But it is only when one stumbles into the great white cube that the old phrase ‘ Art, what is it good for?’ loops it’s dead beat subsistence from within a throbbing and well hung forehead. Artists, those good for very little creatures placed on this earth as the Almighty’s foiled attempt at a practical joke, must in turn take responsibility for the vommie against the gallery wall.

This being said, I happened to stumble into the WHATIFTHEWORLD space the other night. It was the opening of the long anticipated Sloon / Maggs show. I didn’t like it very much. It was, I mean, a show of Contemporary Art with all the concomitant complexities that the term evokes. It felt very Contemporary. It even made me feel very Contemporary as well, but only for a little while.

The content somewhat seemed to be lacking some backbone.

In the case on Sloon it is the kind of paranoid self-doubt that first grabs me, utilising the Web 2.0 form or whatever rubbish it is. It’s all very Contemporary. But is this good enough? We deserve better. Once all the clues and links are uncovered, the work appears fairly static and in dire need of a bit of a kick-start. That being said, I still don’t really get it.

There were more irritable moments in the show, of course one of these being Sloon’s performance. Sloon set up a chair, a table with chilled bubbly, a book and a contract. The latter stated that the viewer / participant was to finish the entire bottle, on their own. Not communicate or interact with anyone. And go home alone unaccompanied.

I volunteered for the job but was soon refused. Sloon explained that it was not fair as it is a gesture I perform every day. I felt a bit insulted. Writer M. Blackman stepped up to the challenge, which is also not entirely fair as it is an act that he too sometimes perform. I spotted a flaw in the contract, poured myself a glass halfway through the performance. Blackman was unable to stop me, as he was not allowed to interact. Blackman was unable to complete the task and I got a lift home, as Matthew was now free of the going home alone clause. In any case, Blackman said that he would go home alone and then come straight back to pick me up.

But read all about it in the SA Art Times here.

It is not that I was deliberately trying to make a mockery of silly performances, but I am just a bit tired of ‘contract’ performance art. It’s very Contemporary. Remember Christian Nerf and Douglas Gimberg did this a few weeks ago? The viewer signed a contract to view images of their trip to Robben Island and was not allowed to tell anyone… yawn. But when one produces this sort of ‘contract’ work it might beneficial if one is a bit more clever and a bit more funny and a lot more edgy.

I would like to speak about Maggs’ work but unfortunately all the video pieces were inaudible. But maybe this was intentional. I will have a closer look at the show when there are less people around. As I am sure I will mess up his dialogue if I don’t get to see the show as a whole.

For now I will stick with one thought: A witty show without the wit.
It wasn’t that bad. I do like Sloon’s sad and pathetic approach. He appears miserable and exhausted by the hand of his surrounds – physical and virtual – and seems constantly driven by the desire to start again, or lack thereof. And I liked the invitation image.

But better luck next time.