If there would exist only one camera in the world, who should own it? Have the freedom to “own” that one camera for the rest of your life.

The following conversation with Johannes Maier took place as part of her participation in the Critical Perspectives at Teesside University Fine Art. Johannes Maier’s work documents events in which he collaborates with people and institutions such as interpreters at the European Commission and a newsroom picture editor at the BBC. The focus of Maier’s work, intentionally positioned at the boundaries of art, documentary and media, is a critical engagement with televisual forms. His work has been shown internationally in group and solo exhibitions, as well as in film festivals including: New Contemporaries, East International, the Short Film Festival of Oberhausen, and Kunstverein Bielefeld. Johannes Maier lives and works in the UK, he currently teaches film at the University of London. His film portrait about the curator Hans Ulrich Obrist is in production.  For the entire interview, please go here.

Critical Perspectives: I was wondering if you could talk a bit about the lineage of the work you are doing and how you approach it or see it within a broader context of art making?

Johannes Maier: My work is critically concerned with televisual and cinematic forms. I often collaborate with people in my work, with individuals, with institutions. The methods I use are aligned to those of documentary filmmakers, journalists, perhaps visual anthropologists. I cannot associate myself directly to anyone of those trades and therefore remain, I suppose, an artist.

CP: You made a remark in passing about the difference between art students and film students in general and I was wondering if you could talk about this a bit?

JM: I can’t remember what I remarked in passing. Perhaps let’s answer your questions in this way. The majority of art students, from my experience, do not know why they do, what they do. This might be a good starting point for being an art student. The majority of film students don’t know what they do, but they think they know why they do it. The reason for knowing relates to some vague career plan.

CP: So instead of doing the more traditional talk as part of this instalment of Critical Perspectives, you opted towards a series of workshops. Could you speak about what you intended and the shape of these, or how they finally came together?

JM: I am selfish here. I am curious. I was interested in trying out a short, but intense workshop, without knowing whether it would be successful or not (‘success’ remains to be defined here). I did not want to know the outcome from the start. Art students (at least in the UK) are trained to ask questions or give answers in tutorial based situations. The same goes for artists or lecturers giving presentations and answer questions afterwards. I often feel I know the outcome, whether I am the one in the audience or ‘on the stage’. It is a vague outcome. In Teesside I was not keen on vagueness. I wanted to be ‘hands on’ with the students, and I wanted the students to be ‘hands on’ with me. If we talk about ‘critical perspectives’ here, then the uncertainty, the dynamic, the communication between the students themselves and between them and me were critical throughout. Let me be provocative; running tutorials as an art tutor is a rehearsed task. Talking as an artist about oneself and the work also, unless one prefers not to. I was not interested in excluding these forms of ‘teaching and learning’ but integrating them into the unrehearsed workshop.

CP: How does this fit in with what you are doing in your own work or your interests in general?

JM: I quote from above: “I often collaborate with people in my work, with individuals, with institutions.” For example, I understand this workshop as making, raising curiosity and not necessarily knowing the outcome.

CP: One of the questions we have been posing through these Critical Perspectives artist talks is around what is contemporary. There’s a quote from Simon Critchley and it has to do with the idea of contemporary referring to something very specific when it has instead become a catchall for many practices. He observes, ‘The problem with contemporary art is that we all think we know what it means and we don’t.’ (http://www.brooklynrail.org/2012/08/art/absolutely-too-much) How might we think of these practices in regards to this, but also for understanding our contemporary moment?

JM: I think I require more time to think about the contemporary, about history, in order to reflect on it. By that time, time will have passed.

CP: Since you have a bit of history and connection with Teesside University, what might be appealing to artists about a place like Teesside? Why might it be more likely that these sorts of ideas and approaches might emerge from an environment like this as opposed to someplace like London or New York?

JM: I am curious why you ask this question? I am not too familiar with the ‘current cultural climate’ in Middlesbrough, but I have noticed a shift in MIMA’s internal and external socially engaged forces. When I visited Teesside for the first time in 2009 a retrospective of Gerhard Richter’s work was on display in the galleries. This time, in early 2017, I was eating a soup on the ground floor. The restaurant, I heard, is partly conceived as a research project by an artist from Teesside. Gerhard Richter’s work made me hungry for soup. The soup made me hungry for remembering Richter’s work.

CP: On a separate note, there seems to be a rethinking around art school or its significance, but maybe it has parallels to what we were just discussing? I’ve also been talking with a lot of artists about the idea of art school or art education in general—I see it as at a bit of a crossroads, but in the positive sense. As an artist, I wonder what are your thoughts or what exactly art school is for or what do you see as the opportunity that this presents in the current situation?

JM: I have been thinking with friends and colleagues for a long time about art schools and their significance. So much so that I worked on one myself (ARTSCHOOL UK) with my close friend and artist John Reardon in 2010. Art education in this country reveals many unanswered questions. They exist in other countries too, but here, they seem most urgent. I think your question is relevant and summarises this urgency quite vividly. If I have the answer, I will let you know.

CP: In this sense and in light of the current cultural climate, what might we better understand this and its significance? Or as a follow-up, if we were to think about what is essential or necessary about art school (or artmaking for that matter), what would that be?

JM: I can only return to your previous question here, and highlight it in a different way. Participants in art schools – whether they are named students, tutors or professors – will need to ask themselves again and again what they think they are doing here (in the art school).

CP: Do you have any advice you would give art students in general or for artists or people working with film just starting out?

JM: This goes with any kind of tool, media or practice. If there would exist only one camera in the world, who should own it? Have the freedom to “own” that one camera for the rest of your life. Practice with it and learn to “play this instrument” for at least 7 years. If you use the computer to appropriate and re-use moving images, ask the same questions. Who in the world should own the only existing computer that can access to the Internet? Then own it, but don’t forget to look out of the window occasionally whilst putting the tool or instrument aside.

CP: So what are you excited about at the moment? In the world? In art?

JM: Spring time is close on the northern hemisphere. I saw an excitable exhibition by the artist Lucy Raven and I remember a conference contribution by Gustav Metzger some ten years ago. He played back “Diamonds are the girls’ best friends” and spoke about Damien Hirst. On the 1st March 2017 – exactly one week ago – Gustav Metzger died in London.

CP: Where do we go from here?

JM: With Gustav Metzger in mind, we will go ‘from here’.

The Critical Perspectives series presents artists and thinkers from across disciplines, offering artist talks, mentoring, lectures, workshops, and tutorials at Teesside University. Simon Critchley observed, ‘The problem with contemporary art is that we all think we know what it means and we don’t,’ and that has been our jumping off point. With an international focus and interdisciplinary approach, Teesside University Fine Art’s Critical Perspectives challenges us to rethink our location within an ever-evolving community of artists in the twenty-first century.


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The following conversation with Graeme Durant took place as part of his participation in the Critical Perspectives at Teesside University Fine Art. Durant’s work work was the subject of a major survey exhibition at Baltic, Newcastle, UK and at Bloc Projects, Sheffield. For the entire interview, please go here.

Critical Perspectives: Graeme, one of the things these artist talks and workshops allow is for there to be a bit more of a cross-generational conversation between artists working at different levels along with students—to give students access to these other voices and approaches. A number of students contacted me after your talk and said that it was particularly helpful as you had been a student more recently, but were now getting higher profile shows like the one at Baltic. For them, it made you more relatable and perhaps helped them see a bit of a path they might apply to their own approach. How is this for you? How does it work from your perspective as I remember you mentioning that you were usually a bit hesitant in these sorts of talks?

Graeme Durant: I always really struggled with talking about my work, to tutors and other artist. Still kind of do. People tend to ask me what I make and m

y reply is mainly just “stuff”. I am slowly coming to realise what I do and why, and have a passion for the concepts I’m playing with, so can openly talk about them more.

Things like these talks help a lot! They add a good amount of pressure and seriousness to make a person open up more.

I have taken part in these residential retreats the past two years that have also helped me talk about what I do/have done. They took place in Cumbria a

nd Cornwall, and on them you live with 15-20 other artists/writers/dancers/thinkers and you discuss your practice or area of interest to one another. Its been really helpful to me so I am going back again in February!

CP: You mention that you are a bit resistant to theory, which I think scepticism is really healthy, but then a lot of your work self-consciously references work by other artists such as Baldessari or Brancusi, but also pop culture with references to people like Tilda Swinton. What’s interesting to you about this sort of in-between place/approach?

GD: Not really sure how to answer, I’m still on the hunt for the answer myself. I guess I make for myself, as an average entertainment or as banal distraction.
Whether it is commenting on popular clichés or historical subjects the work becomes a DIY drama—a place where crude/slapstick/impotent art and precocious/sensitive/emotive art all exist as predominant characters.
The work is habitually self-critical; I am the zombie drawn to the colourful, moving thing. Dragging my feet until some flesh and bones appear giving me a hint to understand my actions.

CP: One of the students asked me to include a question about your interest in making copies or knock-offs rather than pressing the real thing? For instance the skewed Kurt Cobain guitar or keyboard made from an object lying around studio or your arch?

GD: This is something that has only appeared to me recently, or should I say I’ve come to understand that I’m doing it. I would say I build fast visual associations between objects and conjunctions.

The idea of realising a thing you want or want to see by making it is crucial to developing and mirroring existing emotions and concepts outside the realms of language. I want it, I could buy it, I’m not, I’ll make it. Guess this has connections with kinaesthetic learning. Doing/making the thing makes you long to understand it.

I think this is one of the concepts I’m toying with a lot at the minute. I think there is something interesting about how, found objects and ready-mades have done a sort of full circle in the art world and are heavily used throughout college and beyond. Not that it is a copout but more of a natural progression, like how in school you copy a bowl of fruit, then you do a self portrait, then you have to choose an artist and make your work in their style. This follows a lot of artist around after graduating and it does make some interesting viewing. I saw a really nice piece of work in London and it was a book a guy made of all of his paintings of Leona Lewis (the pop star who rose to fame in X Factor). He had (or what I understand) no real necessity to contextualise his stuff, he just was a fan/artist which has appeal too.

CP: There is also a really nice casualness to the objects you make as well as your painting. Do you see any parallels to this approach to the work above?

GD: I’m not sure casual is the right word; it comes across as something ‘cool’. I would say it had a sense of constant improvisation. A conversation with heavy or phallic forms prevail for instance, and presenting them through a twisting of conventional and unconventional materials and painterly surfaces that are simultaneously flat and textured may be read as casual but they are all deeply considered. I always allow for mistakes, errors and follow different directions within my practice therefore encouraging experimentation.

CP: There is a show that has gone around called Supermarket of the Dead that is about the traditional Chinese practice of burning paper money or objects as a sort of offering to the ancestors in the afterlife. It started with really simple objects, but now it seems obsessed with creating paper status objects like ipads, Prada shoes, designer clothes, cars, paper lingerie. I think these sort of cultural translations and copies are really interesting, but I’d like to hear your thought in relation to what you do? http://www.skd.museum/en/special-exhibitions/archive/supermarket-of-the-dead/index.html

GD: I’m quite interested in when this tradition took hold and became modernised by making ipads and other commercial goods. I’ve heard of burning paper money before. There must have been some progression in traditions. I guess this it what I’m aiming for with my new endeavour with the bonsai and scholar rocks. To change/challenge/adapt traditions and conceptions of what they are for.

This article is really good: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/nov/24/paa-joe-ghana-fantasy-coffin-artist-casket-funeral its about Ghanaian coffins. So they basically jazz up the coffin to put the fun into fun-erals, excuse the pun. I saw these in real life at the British Museum a few years ago and was totally blown away!

People have a tendency to embellish things and make light of certain situations. I guess this has parallels with the question below, I make deadpan associations with the titles I pick, to allude to certain information that I wish to divulge.

CP: Along with the resemblances that some of your object take (copies or replicas) you also seem to build a lot through resemblances of words or even tenuous similarities in words that add another level or visual pun to the work. How does this come about and what do you attempt with it?

GD: The titles come about from pulling in info from all areas, conversations, books, internet journals, memes, you name it! I just write the things that jump out to me down and go back through my notes and delve into them more. Some get so lost that I cant even remember writing them down. For example… my top three favourites…(taken direct from my notes)

  • you mean you want me to rush the rush job I’m rushing to rush
  • deadliness of leisure and the uplifting effects of industry
  • you left the door open so the cat ate the doughnut.

Some are pretty obscure and I have no clue why I wrote them down…

  • pool noodle
  • le phoque
  • I’ve seen better bands on a cigar

So yeah that’s a bit random but I guess that’s how it goes sometimes.

CP: What is exciting to you at the moment (art or otherwise)?

GD: Land rovers/unimogs/oxyacetylene/local history/flat eric/the sea

CP: What kind of advice would you offer to students or artists just leaving art school?

GD: Think I’ll keep this one uber simple…just keep making!!.. it sounds silly to say but my years at uni were the highest achieving years, think there were seventeen1sts handed out. And I can only think of one person who got a first that is still actively making work. Quite sad really as some people were great and had potential but lost interest and faded away because the lack of support goes and you get a bit deflated. I didn’t get a first by the way. I got a 2:1 and was pretty chuffed!

CP: Whose work/ideas are you interested in lately? Why exactly? Any collaborations?

GD: No collaborations, but hoping that 2017 will bring some!

CP: What is appealing to artists about a place like Teesside or say Newcastle? Why might it be more likely that these sorts of ideas and approaches might emerge from an environment like this as opposed to someplace like London or New York?

GD: This is hard to answer… having lived in Newcastle for 30 years come January I always question the pull of London and other big cities have to artists… I can list things that are great about the areas in the north but wont as they are so obvious. But there must be reasons for moving south. Money I guess… sad to say. People get more funding and opportunities.

CP: If that’s the case then where do we go from here then, or where might it be important to go?

GD: Stay put? Follow the sheep? Move all of the interesting people you know to a small town and put it on the map?

The Critical Perspectives series presents artists and thinkers from across disciplines, offering artist talks, mentoring, lectures, workshops, and tutorials at Teesside University. Simon Critchley observed, ‘The problem with contemporary art is that we all think we know what it means and we don’t,’ and that has been our jumping off point. With an international focus and interdisciplinary approach, Teesside University Fine Art’s Critical Perspectives challenges us to rethink our location within an ever-evolving community of artists in the twenty-first century.


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