Sunday, March 11, 2012

Maslow's Hierarchy of Nerds: Skills in Time, Got Dem Big City Dreams

It's Term One in Australian schools. Staff are coming to grips with their new classes, kids are seeing how far they can push their new teachers. Groundskeepers are missing the quiet days of summer, the peace and silence replaced with fresh graffiti and volumes of litter. At lunchtime, some students rush to the oval for a game of touch, some students go to the music rooms to kill time talking about Bring Me The Horizon with Ashton guitars in their laps, and others are asking their teacher if he or she will unlock the Drama Room. The attraction to these three sites is roughly tripled if it's raining.

The number of fat lips and corked thighs coming back from the oval indicate that mucking around on the oval is risky fun. No one is playing for sheep stations, but the stakes are possibly high, as an extreme example, if the Year 11 student Jordan Rankin hurt his ankle goofing around on the Palm Beach Currumbin High School oval after his debut game for the Gold Coast Titans in 2008, he would of ended, delayed or seriously endangered a significant career in the NRL. Long hours spent working night shift at McDonalds or lobbying parents have paid for the music kid's Ashtons and Corts, and tickets to music festivals are often more expensive than Korean guitars. By comparison, riffing in the Drama Rooms is very safe, cheap fun - there is a wide disparity between the low stakes and high energy. And make no mistake, the energy is at an incredibly strong level - kids in the drama room talk too loudly, gesture too wildly. They speak at an incredibly rapid rate - like their words are rushing out before their internal censor, possibly their most finely attuned instrument in high school, has time to cut them for fear of embarrassment. They needn't be worried. There is a 'what-happens-in-Vegas' dynamic at play here - their peers in the room aren't likely to be critical of someone doing something strange, as they are experiencing the same giddy euphoria, the contact high transmitted through hammy stage combat.

Skills in Time, the trio of Greg Larsen, Henry Stone and Sam Campbell, stayed in the Drama rooms after the bell rang, and never came out.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="566" caption="Skills in Time, Got Dem Big City Dreams"][/caption]

Got Dem Big City Dreams is a play developed by Skills in Time with the comic Damien Power for Brisbane audiences as a part of both Brisbane Comedy Festival and the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. The guest position of Power is handled well - the trio know that the patter they have developed as a crew has been well earned, and as such Power takes on a multiplicity of supporting characters, not necessarily the straight man but giving a platform for Stone, Campbell and Larsen's characters to play off. Across the characters in their YouTube back catalogue, each of the SiT players draws characterisation from primarily the same locations - Jaydos and Benny Legun are archetypically the same aggressive beta-male, Kevin Brown and Thomas Gentlemen have the same over-earnestness at different levels of confidence. Campbell's characterisations are significantly more fragile. Big City Dreams extends and amplifies these established traits - playing 'themselves', Stone is the loud overcompensator, Larsen the pseudointellectual and Campbell the nice kid in survival mode (think a human Aqua Teen Hunger Force).

The troupe's influences are easy to spot. When Power sustains a note for too long, when Stone licks his bloody lips and stares down the audience, and when Campbell gives repeated delicate kisses to other cast members, long shadows of Messrs Warehiem and Heidecker are cast across the stage. This should in no way suggest that Tim and Eric have freehold title on non-sequiturs, taking advantage of discomfort or just being silly - Wareheim and Heidecker have their own comedy forebears to thank (although it's undeniable that Skills in Time owe the Californian duo a certain debt[ref]As do a number of comics and advertisers - in a recent interview Heidecker notes the multiple examples of commercials that crib their style: http://www.avclub.com/articles/tim-heidecker-and-eric-wareheim,70064/[/ref][ref]It is worth noting the similarities between Skills in Time's focus on father/son relationships and Tim and Eric's Awesome Show! - by the end of the programs five year run Tim and Eric had recruited several actors, including Michael Gross and Patrick Duffy to help analyse mediated fatherhood.[/ref]). What is more interesting to this writer are the moments when Skills in Time move away from stylistically familiar comedy and into uniquely new locations. For this writer the 'Drama room aesthetic' looms the largest - it doesn't get the biggest laughs, of course, but the overarching look and feel of the production gives what could be disparate sketches a consistency and tone this writer hasn't seen before. Tim and Eric used the platform of public access tv to explore ideas about entertainment and creativity, Skills in Time choose the platform of adolescent theatre, of Tournament of Minds and Spacejump, to explore the most uncomfortable sites of growing up and finding applications for a surplus of teenage energy.



For the lions share of the production, Power is dressed in the unofficial after-hours uniform of the boarding student - t-shirt and trackpants. The (multiple) dick jokes are straight out of the Year Nine playbook - one in particular has its origins in the student's pencilcase. The lid of a cheap filing box is a waiter's tray, nikko bleeds through the paper of what is supposed to be a printed flyer. The set pieces could have been nicked from the school library - an overhead projection screen and cheap seat[ref]This writer's high school library had exactly the same make of chair.[/ref] stay on stage for the show's duration. High school drama teachers go to great lengths to lock the props and costume cupboard; This is not because the contents are valuable, they are in fact close to worthless, garnered from thrift stores or donations, their fellow teachers often bring in the toys their kids no longer play with and the uniforms their spouse no longer wears[ref]Police uniforms are especially prized[/ref]. Things 'go missing' from the prop room for a variety of reasons, but one of the strongest is that kids at a stage of identity development can feel the communicative power of objects and clothes - when Henry Stone proudly scabbards a plastic knife in his belt, we can see the a sad lonely kid communicating a vague but empty threat. The worst thing is, it's really funny.[ref]When this writer first read that Chris Lilley was working on a show called Angry Boys, there was a rush of excitement - while Lilley's twins got some successful moments, Got Dem Big City Dreams' focus on the confused actions of boys striving to establish identity is a lot closer to what this was expecting than the product that eventually reached the screen.[/ref]To crudely paraphrase Chekhov, if a two dollar plastic knife appears in the first act, cheap fake blood needs to be used in the following one: joke-store props are better at communicating a thwarted desire to perform than the objects they are trying to signify.

The show, punctuated by short video vignettes[ref]It has to be said that this is really the boys' strongest platform.[/ref], is essentially one act - for the most part the show is a reworking of the well worn City Mouse/Country Mouse trope. Skills in Time reference some of the many productions to make use of Aesop's format, the appropriation of the Perfect Strangers titles is especially clever. When the narrative is close to running it's course the troupe choose to end the show with another popular narrative technique, a talent show. When a sitcom or drama resorts to a talent show episode, it often contributes nothing to the overall development of characters, but allows the show's producers to tap a second (or third, or fourth) talent of their cast. - shining example is the Brady children's performance as "The Silver Platters" in the 1976 season episode 'Amateur Night' of The Brady Bunch[ref]It also serves as a second source of revenue, the song 'It's a Sunshine Day' from the same episode was released as a commercial single.[/ref] Skills in Time use the device to opposite effect - the performances by the shows 'entrants' are exercises in anti-comedy. When the talent show trope happens on-stage in the Drama classroom it signals schism - when a teacher is presented with a in group work as the result of performance brainstorming the implication is the group couldn't come to a consensus for a narrative, the members having strong attachments to disparate characters and action, the talent show a convenient narrative for each member to play out their individual ideas. The teacher's guiding syllabus has strong things to say about collaboration, problem solving and compromise, and subsequently this is often reflected in the group's mark. Unfortunately this dynamic is also at play in Got Dem Big City Dreams - when this writer caught Campbell's Mums vs Dads in a previous performance, it was a show stopper. While it's great that Melbourne audiences will get the chance to see this brief musical moment for the first time, it's easy to think that new 'verses' could have been written for this performance, familiar audiences would appreciate the fresh content, and nothing would be taken away from the overall show.

After the developmental psychologist Abraham Maslow published his Hierarchy of Needs in his text A Theory of Human Motivation in 1943 he explained his methodology, preferring to study individuals he saw as exceptional, writing that "the study of crippled, stunted, immature, and unhealthy specimens can yield only a cripple psychology and a cripple philosophy". While this statement has been contentious for over fifty years, what is clear is that a study of unmet needs makes popular fodder for comedy[ref]Even at Maslow's Physiological level - all Sylvester and Wile E. Coyote wanted to do was eat.[/ref].Skills in Time have untold reserves of energy to generate new content - collaborations with other performers like Damien Power will see their unique style continue to develop.

Skills in Time
Got Dem Big City Dreams

Brisbane Powerhouse
March 6-11

Melbourne Comedy Festival
March 28 - April 8

 

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Heavy Lifting: Mitch Cairns, 'Piano Removalist' at Boxcopy

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Mitch Cairns, 'Piano Removalist'"]Mitch Cairns, 'Piano Removalist'[/caption]

In the last five years Mitch Cairns has had an especially active role in Sydney's art experience. Between 2009 and 2011 The Cosmic Battle For Your Heart, co-founded by Cairns, staged exhibitions of Australian contemporary artists in their domestic space[ref]The most trivial footnote on this post, if not this site (if not all sites): The Cosmic Battle For Your Heart got the jump on on at least one other collective of young and wildly talented creatives; consider the application of awkward layout, generic clip art and exaggerated use of the font Cooper Black in these two promotional posters (pay special attention to the listed dates):

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Exhibition Poster, The Cosmic Battle For Your Heart, 2010"][/caption]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="299" caption="Odd Future Poster, 2010"][/caption]

Note that the artwork for the mixtape Radical is possibly the first public outing of the Cooper Black dominant aesthetic that OF has made instantly recognizable, but that this release was made in May, 2010. Also note that this footnote means absolutely nothing to this writer's response to Cairns' Boxcopy show, and future revisions of this post will probably see it deleted.[/ref] and in 2010 his portrait of performance artist Brian Fuata was selected as a part of the Doug Moran National Portrait Prize.

In this solo show at Brisbane's most geographically central ARI Boxcopy, titled 'Piano Removalist', Cairns profiles recent work in painting, drawing, printmaking and sculpture. The layout of the show in Boxcopy's room is well considered - one corner of the space sees two very different works explore the 'half-way': a canvas advertising a Damp Glass [ref]The glass half-empty/half full question traded for half-wet/half-dry[/ref] for half of a dollar is juxtaposed with a faceless (but most definitely male) figure mid-'limbo'.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="449" caption="Mitch Cairns, Cartoon VI, pencil and riso print on paper, 2011"]Mitch Cairns, Cartoon VI, pencil and riso print on paper, 2011[/caption]

Another corner of the space seems focused on portraiture. Of these three works, one mixed media, one sculpture and one oil painting on linen, it is Smokey Sad Square that has the most impact for this writer. Mashing up the aesthetics of international packing symbols, AIGA's No Smoking sign and the looseness of jazz album covers, this painting, presumed by this writer to be a self-portrait, is an example of Cairns' output at full volume.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Mitch Cairns, Smokey Sad Square, oil on linen, 2011"]Mitch Cairns, Smokey Sad Square, oil on linen, 2011[/caption]

The title of the show is dense with associations. The work in the show adopts a loose, almost-finished aesthetic - but of course when moving delicate and complicated instruments it is a given that they arrive slightly out of tune. The title's reference to a role, rather than a practice is also worthy of attention; some people play the piano for a living, others shift them from one location to another. For the painter Cairns to identify himself not with individual creative practice but with the 'grunt work' that supports it[ref]Young artists often find themselves involved in both - Andrew Frost recently made light of this in a piece for the Sydney Morning Herald: http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/the-a-to-z-of-contemporary-art-20120301-1u40k.html - refer to entries A for Artist and C for Curator in particular.[/ref] is telling, his job might be less about painting, drawing and building, and more about lifting hefty ideas and shifting them from location to location. Especially important to this reading of the title is that this is the kind of work you can't do alone[ref]This writer has shifted a few pianos in the recent past, and can attest it is difficult, perilous and collaborative work[/ref]. So who is helping to lift and shift these weighty loads?

Many hands make light work, and there could well be a good many hands involved in creating the contexts Cairns operates in. In Rachel Fuller's text supporting the show, and in titles of previous paintings by Cairns, Eric Thake is referenced, and the Victorian modernists sly, laconic style is easily apparent in the paintings of 'Piano Removalist'. Cairns name-checks the New Zealand painter Tom Kreisler in one work (ironically this work has arguably the least visible sense of humour in the show) and Australian non-objective painter Shane Haseman in another. Like a lot of young artists in his and previous generations (including Kreisler), has spent much of his practice in the location between high brow and low brow: the overall tone of the show has the looseness of David Shrigley, the dick-joke anthropology of Mike Kelley and the complicated sadness of both. In general, Cairns seem more interested in how jokes can expand to fill visual space rather  than exploring a Richard Prince-style line of ambiguous social critique, but nonetheless owes a small debt to Prince for securing a place for people's lewdest expressions in contemporary art. Maybe the strongest set of arms belong to Peter Tyndall, another artist whose application of retro styles belies contemporary practice at its most shrewdly self-aware.

Other touchstones for Cairn's sparse lines and exaggerated features lie outside of visual art's ledger - the long, angular noses and round glasses evoking John Lennon's self portrait used in posters for and opening credits of the Imagine documentary, the absentminded composition and juvenile strategies echo stongly with Vonnegut's supplementary doodles in Breakfast of Champions and other novels.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640" caption="Kurt Vonnegut, page 5 of Breakfast of Champions, 1973"] Kurt Vonnegut, page 5 of Breakfast of Champions, 1973[/caption]

While no pianos have been lifted up the narrow stairs to Boxcopy, a bongo drum sits on the gallery floor, and crudely hand-drawn and sparse music notation appears above the likeness of the avant-garde French pianist in Tom Kreisler as a jug as Erik Satie. Other musical references can be found in the show, but it's hard to tell if they are intentional. The 2x2 grid of mustachioed, beaded, long haired men of Cartoon XV might be a crude mirror of the cover of Let It Be, the pub struck by lightning in Cartoon XIV[ref]

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="428" caption="Mitch Cairns, Cartoon XIV, 2011"]Mitch Cairns, Cartoon XIV, 2011[/caption]

[/ref] might make a visual reference to Bad Brains' self titled album of 1982. Or, more importantly, they might not - the viewer is given free licence to create meaning: Mitch Cairns the Piano Removalist doesn't own these Steinways and Broadwoods, he is paid to move these items into our spaces, so after he has left we can be alone and play.

 

Piano Removalist
New work by Mitch Cairns
Boxcopy
3 – 24 March 2012