13ROOMS Wednesday 17th April 2013 - A13ROOMSToFAR

Roman Ondak’s Swap (2011) has proven to an art fan page-turner. A queue of swappers is consistently outside this room. It’s like a gleaner’s convention. Jackson spent some time engaging with Ondak’s experience and thoroughly enjoyed the process of interacting with the interpreter (Tony Osborne) who has been working the crowds to create the authentic Ondak SWAP experience. Kids love 13ROOMS. It’s like TV only the visions are real.  Jackson managed to SWAP a number of items and ended up taking home a plastic, amber Mickey Mouse figurine.

                                                    
                                                        Roman Ondak's SWAP,2011

The great thing is the surprising diversity of social flotsam and jetsam washing up in Ondak’s room. The 13ROOMS project is an innovative and wacky experience that is not only special it has opened its doors to the entire city in that it is free. Not that ticket $$$ guarantees a good or poor experience because all of us have spent our money on ‘ART’ at some period. We may have felt poorer for an experience but fortunately we have friends like this, ‘I am interested in ideas, not merely in visual products.’ (Marcel Duchamp).

                                            Gary Daly's Book with writing, April 17th 2013

                                                              AFTER R. MUTT

After R. Mutt came the rest. Today I had a rest from ART. Though, I spent the day with the boys and Sally. And what a day it has been. When I’m there I want to be here, and when I’m here I want to be there (appropriated from Apocalypse Now). 

                                             After R. Mutt by Gary Daly April 17th 2013

Tuesday 16 April 2013 FORARTSfUcKsaKE

Walsh Bay Exterior Performers' Entrance

What is knowledge? What is this thing called news? Misery, bombs, talkback, mass graves and death with the odd human-interest story smeared between the sheets of sports and weather. What happens in the outer world can affect the daily run of the mill existence. 

The question is, by what degree? Should it place a burden on my consumption of my bacon double pizza burger and eggs, or my flat whitey, and finally what about this lark ART?  

My son said, ‘Dad I’ve got a rhyme, art…fart.”

He’s on the sharp end of art critiquing that kid.

Jackson Daly Original

‘There’s suffering on earth, I know. And plenty of that suffering is in…[…]. But, if I can’t subtract from the world’s sum of misery, do I have to add to it personally…’ (P.J. O’Rourke, Holidays in Hell, [1988]).

We had a fire alarm halfway through my first shift this morning. The alarm sounded something like the Death Star’s planet annihilator. Art fans stood still until I was forced to turn around and say, ‘That’s the fire alarm I think you should leave.’ I think they thought it was part of the performance. That’s the joy of contemporary art, no one knows what it is until it’s spelt out, framed or hung on a wall and signed by R. Mutt. I think it was the fry guy at the wharf café. He forgot the chips.

FAME

Today ‘Steve’ is wearing his uniform and art fans love it. In fact the performers are all over him. I’ve seen them stroking his muscle bound uniform arm. I’m jealous. Still ‘Steve’ is about six feet, square jaw, fit as a fanatic and I’m serious he has that Chesty Bond handsomeness that break hearts. From a soldierly perspective he has leadership qualities as well as that basic military presence of grace under pressure. I kind of had a panic-shaking-stress-presence and gracelessness under pressure. I discovered that it's extremely difficult to be something you’re not. On the other hand I remained in my hole facing front regardless of my panicky mutterings and shaking. There was nowhere to run to anyway. One of our soldier’s had an angst attack and was taken off duty for a day. I was in angst for my entire time in Iraq but was too ashamed to seek help. During hairy scary moments where physical harm was real I drifted off into a milky unawareness and disbelief of the moment. Perhaps it was good idea to be shit scared all of the time. 

First Foot in Iraq - Day 1 Iraq 1991

The same boots twenty years later 

We had another busy shift and for a Monday a good turn out for art fans. I heard the familiar twang of a comment, yet this time a little different. A whispering voice hissed behind me, ‘Is anyone here, like me, tempted to say to him, who’s been a naughty boy then.’  

Man=Flesh/Woman=Flesh - Flat, 1997

A rhetorical question echoes a rhetorical action (is there such a thing as a rhetorical action?).  It’s not a big deal just kind of wish comments had a bit more depth. Some groups were on a tour of sorts and I really enjoyed listening to the hosts try to motivate the art fans into thinking and speaking up about their ideas and thoughts. It was difficult for the groups to open up, as we are in many ways a socially conservative culture. 

Revolving Door, 2011

Freedom to speak your mind has been somewhat hijacked by experts and others who are sheriff’s of opinion. What makes 13 ROOMS so special is the ambiguity of a direct meaningful outcome. I’m sure there are countless academic essays on these works out there and I recommend reading some of them because contextual knowledge (in my humble arty opinion) truly does focus your own ideas and thoughts. Yet, an instinctual response is an entirely valid approach.

Hard Core Artists - Clark Beaumont
Coexisting, 2013

I had a look around at some of the work before I left today and it was refreshing to see them in light of getting to know some of the performers in the green room. The works I searched out were, Coexisting, Mirror Check, and Luminosity and then took a walk through the Revolving Door. These pieces reveal to me conflict, tension, and endurance and demonstrate the tediousness of life even when the experience is represented in art.

Art on!

Monday 15th April 2013 ARTbYPasS

It’s perfect timing for a day off. Yesterday I was both mentally and physically bushwhacked. I reflect on what I wrote and I truly feel stabilized for having today off.

dARTSabrE

I am back on Tuesday 16^th April (11am-3:30pm), Thursday 18^th April (3:30pm-8pm), Friday 19^th April (3:30pm-8pm), Saturday 20^th April (11am-3:30pm) and last day of 13 ROOMS is Sunday 21^st April (11am-3:30pm).

View of the Art Landscape

I am really grateful to and happy to have friends and family come and check out 13 ROOMS as well as read my 13ROOMS blog because it’s turning out to be an extremely meditative and cathartic experience. I am recalling events and experiences from Iraq in 1991 as well as learning a great deal about how artists and performers work together to produce dynamic and thought provoking experiences.

 

Art-Fan-Outlet

Once in Iraq I was tasked to look after a remote aid tent with nothing but radio contact as back up for the unexpected. The role required me to treat anyone and anything. By using my wits and initiative I made decisions on casualties on a case-by-case basis. Mostly it was treating the Iraqi and Kurdish population suffering from injuries from sunburn to dressing wounds. When I came across infected wounds as well as the very ill all I could truly do was write a brief casualty history and direct them in the general direction of a higher treatment facility. It was pretty depressing considering the language barrier and the shared feelings of hopelessness. I used my military issued phonetic Arabic and Kurdish dictionary, but it hindered rather than helped. Still I got some smiles and managed to hand over loads of ration packs (food) and minor medications.

Confident, happy, well mannered and extremely intuitive

On my second day at the aid tent I watched from my deck chair a figure in the distance slowly 

coming towards me. I had been informed that the area directly in front of the aid post was indiscriminately mined (when it comes to land mines there is no discrimination). When the figure finally arrived at my tent it turned out to be a young boy of around eight. His local knowledge perhaps helped him get through safely or the area wasn’t mined at all. Not that I was going to try and find out. There was a friendly silence until we spoke. I spoke English and he Kurdish. We conversed in this manner as if we actually understood the nature of our conversation. I couldn’t get his name, but he seemed to be rather good at imitating my words and name. Though, the meaning I’m sure was just a mystery to him as it was to me. He had a toothy grin throughout our short happy time together. By drawing pictures in the sand we shared ideas, which again made us laugh for no reason other than we were there together. He ate a whole lot and I also allowed him to play with my radio. He loved my rifle and kept trying to get me to give him a play but I kind of drew the line there. He wasn’t upset, he understood my reasoning but enjoyed playing troublemaker.

I watched this boy walk from well beyond those trees

I was so impressed by his confidence, his manners and sense of purpose. I have no idea if he came to the tent to get something or simply out of curiosity. He wasn’t with me long, long enough for him and I to form a strange bond in friendship. Before he left I gave him a medical package containing medicines, bandages, ration packs and water bottles which I found stashed in the tent. He was extremely happy when he left and turned to wave at me a number of times as he walked back the way he had come. I try not to think about what happened to him after that day because the next twenty years was an awfully bloody period in that part of the world.

My Kurdish Friend 1991

Sunday 14th April 2013 A BLOG OF ART

Sunday is searing. The fans are massing at the gates, 'Abandon all lucidity ye who enter here' or don't. It seems as if my life has been taken over by 13 ROOMS. I wake up and sleep with thoughts of standing in my corner. Every time I think it's getting easier it gets harder. When I think of time in minutes I can clearly delineate between two types of fifteen minutes. The fifteen minutes I'm standing in the room which feels to me to drip by in slow motion. My attempts at meditation are at times paying off but mostly I struggle with simply standing still and thinking about how many minutes have ticked off. Sunday shift has begun and I feel like going home. Perhaps it's the blazing heat.

                                                                  Blog of wood # 1

                                                                  Blog of Wood # 2

This 13ROOMS gig is just like the army, standing around doing nothing except here I’m facing the corner.

                                                                               Identity

The Don - Mr. John Kaldor

What is so difficult about standing still for fifteen minutes (originally it was thirty minutes and after a day of that routine I kind of wanted to tell Mr. Sierra to…well, we now do fifteen minutes). Standing still on a hard floor causes:

1.    Discomfort to feet, shoulders, neck and back.

2.    It’s only fifteen minutes though?

3.    Standing close to a white wall in the corner is dull.

4.    It’s only fifteen minutes though?

5.    The mind wanders the body is still.

6.    All I can think about is guessing how far into fifteen minutes I am.

7.    Thought trails soothe but they only work spontaneously and come rarely

8.     I must be missing something.

 Sally, Jackson, Beckett, Ruby and the always-stunning Violet Tingle Violet Tingle's wonderful blog My Darling Darlinghurst visited the 13 ROOMS today. The boys dashed into the room screaming, ‘daddy, daddy, daddy…’ I was happy to hear them, as I knew they would do this when they initially saw me. Jackson asked, “Why you standing there?’ Shouts and screams of joy continued throughout their visit. Art fans considering the nature of the activity. ‘Is this part of the performance?’

Jackson is having a ball coming to his conclusions about what ‘these’ people (13 ROOMS People) are doing. He asked again, ‘Dad why are you standing in the corner.’

‘I’ll explain later.’

Still, most of the art fans would love an explanation because, I feel I can sense their need for narrative. These performances/interpretations are running their own program. This does not fit within the time constraints we have become conditioned to with regards to television, movies (except Soviet cinema re: Tractor Workers et al) and even theatre. And I am not saying 13 ROOMS is any better it’s different yes, however within it’s genre it’s what it is. Anything goes! Considering the remarks and passing critiques of fans visiting they enjoy the novelty, and perhaps 13 ROOMS kindles a craving for the creative adventure. Yet, following the plot between boundaries serves a greater purpose for most of us as we feel at ease with beginning, middle and end. Just thinking with ink.

Dad your job is easy. I just sit here?

Who are those people?

Together at 13 ROOMS

Can we go home now dad?