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The Sleepers (1980)

Introducing my current fascination – French conceptual artist Sophie Calle. I recently learned of her work through So Much To Tell You, the beautiful blog of Natalie Wood and Zoe Walker (which is also a veritable treasure trove of other delightful things! Like photography, videos, art and fashion. Clicky clicky!) A photographer, a writer, and an installation artist, Calle’s work explores identity, intimacy and privacy through voyeuristic and risque methods. Calle doesn’t just document the lives of her subjects, she plays visual detective, going so far as to pose as a chambermaid to explore the lives of hotel guests, and inviting strangers into her bed for her to photograph.

Her projects by and large generate waves of public controversy. One particular favourite of mine is a series of 28 articles she published for French daily newspaper Liberation (1983). After finding an address book on the street, Calle photocopied the contents before returning the address book to the rightful owner. What followed was a series of stalkerish conversations of the people listed within the book. After speaking to these people about the owner of the address book, Calle transcribed these conversations and published them along with photograph’s of the man’s favourite activities, relying upon the accounts and impressions of others to form the identity of a man she had never met herself. The articles were published, but upon discovering them, the owner of the address book, a documentary filmmaker named Pierre Baudry, threatened to sue the artist for invasion of privacy. As Calle reports, the owner discovered a nude photograph of her, and demanded the newspaper publish it, in retaliation for what he perceived to be an unwelcome intrusion into his private life.

In interviews (which are known to go for 10 hours long) Calle is as illusive as she is audacious.

Why did she become an artist? “To seduce my father.” Excellent answer: short, shocking and to the point. She smiles, then pops a raspberry into her mouth. Did she succeed? “Oh yes,” she says, unleashing a huge grin. This seduction (she won’t say if it was a sexual one) took place half a lifetime ago.

Years earlier, she had duped him into bankrolling her travels. “I was studying with Jean Baudrillard, and my father agreed he would pay me a sum of money if I got my diploma. But I didn’t want to finish it. I told Baudrillard. He said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pass off some other student’s exam papers as yours. You’ll get your diploma.’” This is a scoop: the professor who famously argued that the first Gulf war did not take place ensured that Sophie Calle got a diploma for work she never did. “I can tell this story now because Baudrillard is dead,” Calle says. What did her father think? “I got my diploma,” she shrugs. “How was not his concern.”

Definitely one to research! Doesn’t her work make you instantly think of The Selby and the many photography essays in Frankie?

The Hotel (1981)

The Sleepers (1980)

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When I’m not bemoaning the woes of student life, sometimes I can produce things of substance. Here’s one of my more serious and critical pieces.


Step onto any street in present day East Berlin and witness a barrage of a spray-painted dystopia. You’ll be bombarded by blocks of graffiti, seemingly hanging from the walls of buildings like unfinished sentences, revealing in all their glory an iron will to fight against a rigid dictatorship. A form of expression and retaliation against the GDR in the Eastern Bloc, nowhere is this more true than the areas of Kreuzeberg and Mitte. But by taking a step away from these appropriated canvases of low-brow artistic expression and towards the inner west reveals a pinnacle aspect of German art – that of the Bauhaus movement. True to the synonymous relationship between Germany and the country’s attributes of efficiency and functionality, the Bauhaus movement and it’s principles of form with function and simplicity in multiplicity are on display at the Bauhaus Archiv, just south of Tiersgarten. One of the Twentieth Century’s most important schools of design (spread across three campuses in its heyday), The Bauhaus collection represents the entire spectrum of the post-expressionism discipline, a reflection of the unity between art and design as seen by founder Walter Gropius. With the permanent exhibition transporting visitors back to the post-world-war one new objective aestheticism of the Twentieth Century, viewers can see more recent and temporary exhibits, providing a testament to the longevity of minimalism in the face of lavishness and the union between form and function.

Beginning with a timeline of major milestones for the design school, the Archiv is split into four interconnected sections. Separate, freestanding parts of a congruous whole, even the architecture of the Bauhaus exhibit is true to the modernist art form’s pragmatic aesthetics. Beginning with the effects of the depression on the Bauhaus aesthetic and use of materials, to the dissolution in 1924 and its reopening in 1925, the Archiv displays the distinct Bauhaus reappropriation of materials. A pinnacle of 20th century furniture design, the Wassily armchair, named after Bauhaus teacher Wassily Kandinsky by student Marcel Breur in 1925, it embodies a shift away from personal luxury with its light and easy assemblage. Made from bended steel tubes, symbolic of a scarcity of materials throughout the Depression era, the modern furniture featured throughout the exhibition encompasses the goals of the Bauhaus emphasis on design for the masses with its abandonment of traditional form in favour of functional design.

The Werkbund Exhibition of Paris 1930, a coffee bar with the air of a modern bar or club, similarly demonstrates the Bauhaus approach towards a new social model. Displayed as a fixture to feature inside a modern high-rise apartment, Walter Gropius’ vision of an inner city dwelling (informed by the influences and collaborative efforts of a team of previous Bauhaus colleagues such as Bayer, Breuer and Maholy-Nagy) appears as a lop-sided horseshoe, a strong contrast to traditional dining settings. A reworking of human habitats and communal space, the installation displays a reaction to industralisation, over-population and urbanisation with an innovative use of space and a geometrically defined environment.

In tune with a similar quest for functionality is the displayed work of Mies de Rohe, in particular his student’s courthouses. The Archiv features sketches of floor plans and architectural drawings, all representative of the Bauhaus school’s teachings of the a new spatial analysis of man and his domestic surroundings. Mies and his students developed a series of open plan one-storey dwellings, consisting of T-shaped houses with a long rectangular window to look out onto a garden. Creating a harmonious interrelationship not just between the enclosure of the building and its rooms, but also the surroundings of the dwelling, Mies and his students attempted to create a new experience of domestic space through a reconfiguration of the enclosure’s walls and their relation to their outside environment.

A more modern approach to temporality in design is the current exhibition of Ingo Maurer’s lights. A contemporary German designer driven by new technologies, Maurer’s work carries on the principles of Bauhaus with appropriation of a range of materials, from Japanese textiles to the use of OLEDs. Maurer’s lights don’t just provide illumination, they’re responsible for the room’s atmosphere, and are world renown; they feature at Toronto Airport and at Paris Galeries Lafeyette Maison.

Most prominent of the exhibition is Maurer’s homage to Thomas Edison in his installation Hoi Polloi. A reaction against the EU ban on standard light bulbs, Hoi Polloi features what could be called the Moses of all light bulbs. Hoi Polloi uses an innovation in illumination called WanderLux. True to Bauhaus principles, WanderLux is an appropriation of the incandescent light bulb and LED technology, heralded as the lovechild of these two illuminative options. Quite literally a beacon of endless possibilities for irradiating one’s personal space, Maurer’s whole exhibition appears to be an open declaration of admiration for Thomas Edison’s invention. Meticulously placed at the end of Maurer’s exhibition, Hoi Polloi transforms his electronic light display into a political statement, disdaining the EU’s reduction in different light qualities and making a stand for the benefits of choice when it comes to the form and function of the humble lamp-shade.

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