From photos with Santa to SantaCon, Minnesota has it all — cheap.
9 free things to do in the Twin Cities Dec. 13-18
These Photos Capture Former Yakuza Gangsters at a Japanese Bathhouse
Theo Cottle’s arresting new photo series captures the vulnerable masculinity of former gangsters at an onsen. “It’s really hard for them to be part of society,” he says
December 12, 2023
My son was excited by photography until one feature of this Kidizoom camera led him astray
I’m unsure Kidizooms and their ilk work for all kids, and this is why. A few years ago my son discovered an old digital compact camera lying around the house. It was a batter old Olympus with a powered zoom – the exact model escapes me. It seemed to engage his interest in photography despite the busted screen and lack of child-friendliness. We decided to get him his own children’s camera.
At the time, I didn’t think to consult the best kids’s camera list (in fact I have to admit I handed the entire decision over to my partner). The result was that my son received a colorful little camera which was much better designed for his little fingers, and clearly a good bit more robust. The image quality certainly didn’t match, but that didn’t stop him from engaging with the device – a promising start, but there was a sting in the tail. Or should I say the OS.
The problem was, however, that while the damaged Olympus had (and has) a thumb-sized hole of dead pixels in its LCD display, it is a device with a singular purpose. In auto mode, you can take a photo and some pleasing whirring and clicking takes place inside as the AF makes its choices and (as often happened since my son liked to play indoors) the flash charged and fired.
He really liked the flash. A bit too much, in fact. But it did mean that indoor images were suitably lit so he came to appreciate the delay from shooting to viewing on a computer. Regrettably, he also viewed the flash as something of a fun weapon — a good part of the motivation for the kid’s camera!
Anyway, not only did the children’s camera lack a ‘real’ flash – a bit of a disappointment for him – but the working LCD display was, as it is on the Kidizoom, the gateway to a range of low-quality games using the buttons as directional controls. As soon as he found this, the camera might as well not have had a lens. He lost any interest in taking photos because of the option of games, and he explored these himself.
Hope for his photography was not lost, though; a couple of years have passed since the photo above was taken and he still likes to play with the Olympus (and is less interested in pointing the flash into people’s eyes now he has a better conception of Santa’s naughty list!)
As it transpires, several of the DCW team have run into similar issues with kids distracted by on-camera games. Luckily my colleague Kalum recently reviewed the game-free My First Camera 2 (which even comes with a bath-friendly underwater housing). The Kidizoom range, on the other hand, is clever because it has adapted to encompass things mummy and daddy use – watch and phone stylings are on offer. It’s great that there is the choice, but on reflection, I know which route I’d take!
We keep a guide to the best kids cameras and best drones for kids, which both offer options for different age groups.
Why are evermore artists ditching the dealers?
It is a sign of the times that the top ten positions in the 2023 ArtReview annual Power 100 list are all taken by artists. Compare this with a decade ago, when mega-gallerists Larry Gagosian and David Zwirner jostled for the lead position, and it clarifies just how much power in the art market has shifted from dealers to artists in recent years. One particularly disruptive outcome of this change in tack has been that an increasing number of artists are eschewing gallery representation in favour of more flexible approaches to the making, marketing and selling of their art.
Rachel Jones, a London-based artist whose oil stick paintings of abstract imagery have been in high demand since she earned her MFA in 2019, quietly left Thaddaeus Ropac gallery last month to investigate alternative working methods. After three years with Ropac, she no longer plans to be represented by any gallery.
In September, Jones debuted her first opera-based work, Hey, Maudie, which was commissioned by the London non-profit The Roberts Institute of Art and supported by Ropac. In a statement, Jones says her time with the gallery was “transformative” and expresses “pride” at what they have “accomplished together”. She adds: “I’m now exploring different directions in my practice and want to take the time out to reflect and explore this independently.” In the meantime, she is also working towards a show at the Museum of the African Diaspora in San Francisco, due to open in March 2024.
Jones’s desire for total autonomy is all the more striking given she is still in the earlier stages of her career. For more established artists, going it alone is arguably a less daunting prospect. In February, Peter Doig, an artist with a significant and longstanding market, announced his exit from Michael Werner gallery after 23 years together. Parinaz Mogadassi, Doig’s wife and the owner of Tramps gallery in New York, said at the time that Doig had begun “working independently, is not represented by any gallery and has no plans at present to join another gallery”.
Describing the relationship between any artist and dealer as “a delicate balance” of the professional and personal, Mogadassi added: “Ultimately, from an artist’s perspective, the best way to be assured transparency in all dealings is to be the one directly leading the conversations surrounding one’s work and life. You have to also feel there is a sense of like-mindedness.” She confirmed to The Art Newspaper in mid-November that her husband is still content to operate without dealer representation.
Rise of the artist agent
When United Talent Agency (UTA), one of the so-called “big three” US-headquartered talent agencies, launched a fine arts division in 2015, increasing artists’ autonomy was at the forefront of its mission. The late lawyer Joshua Roth, who founded UTA Fine Arts, said at the time: “We believe there is room for a serious, professional representation structure in the art world, one that helps artists gain greater control of their careers and opens the doors to new and better opportunities.”
Dealers argue that their profession already provides this structure and more—including a nurturing environment, an understanding of art history and long-established links with museums and private collectors. But as the fine art world has bled ever-deeper into luxury retail, fashion, TV, film, music and even sports, partnering with talent agents is becoming increasingly common for studio artists.
UTA Fine Arts quickly signed such vaunted names as Judy Chicago, Isaac Julien and Billy Al Bengston. Rival entertainment agencies WME (part of Frieze’s parent company, Endeavor) and Creative Artists Agency (CAA) have built their own burgeoning lists of fine artists. Much of these agencies’ mandate involves the commercial licensing of artists’ works or their adaptation into film and television projects. But they also broker other, more creative types of deals with corporate clients and brand partners.
A growing number of boutique agencies has also sprung up as an alternative to the conglomerates. The French businesswoman Marine Tanguy founded MTArt in 2015. Graham Southern (formerly of Blain Southern gallery) co-founded Southern & Partners, described as “an independent artist management consultancy”, in September 2020.
Then there are the individual agents. Stefan Simchowitz, a Los Angeles-based collector, spent years advising and making markets for living artists, including Serge Attukwei Clottey (previously represented by Simon Lee gallery, which entered administration earlier this year), before opening his own gallery in 2021. Amir Shariat, a Vienna-based artist manager and collector, has overseen transactions for fast-rising artists Amoako Boafo, Kennedy Yanko and others. Joe Hage, the founder of Heni Group and a partner at a London law firm, has quietly managed a handful of major talents, including Damien Hirst and the now gallery-free Doig, for many years.
As well as handling the all-important duties of marketing and PR, agents can help artists negotiate with major corporations. One example is the financing of a public sculpture for a new building—a type of deal with which the British sculptor Nick Hornby has extensive experience.
Hornby has gone without gallery representation for much of his career—not to deliberately sidestep the system, he says, but rather to manage the complexities of producing large-scale works more efficiently. This process often demands collaborating with engineers, fabricators, foundries and a slew of other specialists the average art dealer seldom engages with. As Hornby puts it: “We have to explore atypical scenarios to realise projects. This can lead to direct channels with collectors and funders.” He says that his three public commissions in London to date all came to him directly.
Trade-offs and ringfences
Among the benefits of self-representation are “a sense of agency” and the “ability to grow and shrink studio operations”, Hornby says, noting that it is also encouraging “knowing my value is set by my own reputation and not that of a gallery”. His studio team carries out much of the work typically undertaken by a dealer, including administration, logistics and archiving. The caveat is that Hornby must personally oversee most of his studio’s high-level business interactions himself. “I can only be in one place at a time,” he says. “It can be exhausting, and at times I find it hard to ringfence time to work purely on ideas, thinking, dreaming.”
While Hornby is often approached by architects and interior designers, he says sales are split “fairly evenly” between art consultants, collectors and traditional gallery projects. Commissions have come from a diverse range of organisations including Tate, Glyndebourne, Matches Fashion, British Land and Kensington and Chelsea Council.
Meanwhile social media has amplified artists’ exposure to a mass audience and put them in direct contact with buyers and potential partners. Although both data and anecdotes suggest relatively few sales are closed this way, art economist Clare McAndrew points out that Instagram and other social media platforms “can often be used as the initial discovery channel for sourcing and discovering new works and artists, with the actual sale itself then made through a gallery or fair, at auction or sourced directly from the artist”.
For digital artists in particular, online channels can be a lifeline. Despite the bottom dropping out of the non-fungible token (NFT) market, Beeple, aka Mike Winkelmann, whose NFT-backed digital collage Everydays: the First 5000 Days famously made $69.3m (with fees) in a 2021 Christie’s sale, still appears to be thriving without gallery representation. While Winkelmann’s 2.3 million Instagram following has no doubt generated business opportunities, an artist agent has played a role too. Loïc Gouzer, the former Christie’s dealmaker, has been advising Winkelmann—at least periodically—since his work entered the fine art world.
Away from headline-grabbing sales, however, artists’ greater potential for autonomy also comes at a time of enormous precarity. As Hornby puts it: “This is an extremely unusual time to be an artist. It can feel exhilarating and full of freedom, but also exposing and full of pressure.”
Lincoln’s Bronze Top Hat Swiped from Waterfront Kentucky Statue: ‘Bring the Hat Back, Because You Can’t Wear It’
The popular bronze sculpture of President Abraham Lincoln in Louisville’s Waterfront Park was only recently vandalized
Aboriginal artist discusses visual sovereignty
The Artists of ‘PULP’ Fold, Emboss, and Quill Their Way Through the Possibilities of Paper
James Lake. All images © the artists, courtesy of MAKE Southwest
Strips of cardboard, papier-mâché, and precision folding are just a few of the techniques artists employ as they explore of the endless potential of paper. Whether using found pages of magazines and books, intricately folding single sheets into detailed figures, or designing unique wearable pieces, artists are constantly finding original ways to use the humble material.
Kicking off next month at MAKE Southwest, a group exhibition titled PULP celebrates the possibilities of the medium in all its forms, from quilled flowers to figurative sculptures to playful miniatures. Collaboratively curated by the Paper Artist Collective and GF Smith, PULP presents the work of more than two dozen international artists, including several we’ve shared here on Colossal over the years, like Layla May Arthur, Daphne Lee, Juho Könkkölä, Kate Kato, and more.
PULP opens on January 20 and runs through April 13 in the town of Bovey Tracey, on the edge of Dartmoor. If you’re in the area, you can plan your visit and learn more via MAKE Southwest’s website.
Daphne Lee
Emma Boyes
Tina Kraus
Rosa Yoo
Kate Kato
Left: Samantha Quinn. Right: Dail Behennah
Kate Hipkiss
Jeremy May
Monique Martin
Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article The Artists of ‘PULP’ Fold, Emboss, and Quill Their Way Through the Possibilities of Paper appeared first on Colossal.
“This is the UK in 2023, people are starving”: Tom Skipp photographs Bristol’s food banks
Over the years, like many, the documentary photographer Tom Skipp began hearing more and more about food banks. Not only stats on their vastly rising usage, but, more disturbingly, comments from figures like the Tory’s deputy chairman Lee Anderson. In February of this year Anderson claimed that there is no “massive need” for food banks, and that people’s hunger simply comes down to people being unable to budget.
So, in collaboration with the Trussel Trust, Tom set himself on photographing the various food banks of his home city of Bristol, in the process raising awareness of the circumstances that have led to their increased presence.
Much like Tom’s Empty Community series from 2020 which focussed on dormant spaces during Covid, the images throughout focus predominantly on deserted interiors, rather than people. “I don’t want to point a camera at someone that’s using a food bank, feeding off their hunger,” says Tom. “I hope there’s power in the absence of people.” He instead lenses in on the many spaces like churches and community centres that provide such services. From wide shots of their slightly dated interiors; rows upon rows of empty chairs, large crosses on the wall, deflated balloons and streamers from a recent party, to close-up shots; packages of eggs dated for use-by with black marker pen, shelves stacked with tins, and leaflets giving advice on how to avoid loan sharks. This mismatch of multi-purpose usage highlights the absurdity of such spaces having to be used to provide people with their most basic necessities.
‘Art helps us imagine a future we wish to remember’: the photographer finding art in a war zone
An unexpected byproduct of the Russian invasion of Ukraine has been an upsurge of interest, appreciation and acknowledgment of Ukrainian culture. Concert halls and bookshops all over the world have turned to Ukrainian music and literature, and museums have showcased Ukrainian art.
But it is not only in museums and galleries that a thriving visual culture can be found. Six months after the war broke out last year, the photographer and film-maker Daoud Sarhandi-Williams travelled to Kyiv to chronicle the street art that was increasingly adorning the city.
Sarhandi-Williams had previously produced a photographic book of the street art that emerged from the Bosnian war, and had also worked in Palestine and Kosovo. “I literally walked the city,” he says of Kyiv. “Twelve, 13 hours a day for a month taking photographs. I’ve probably walked Kyiv more than most residents have.” The result is a new book, Ukraine at War: Street Art, Posters + Poetry.
From the thousands of images he took, he says he has designed the images and text as a film-maker might, to “give the impression to the reader that they were actually walking in Kyiv, discovering these things as they go along, turning a page as if you’d turn a corner”. While photographing sites in Kyiv, he says he was only stopped once by the police when he was taking a photo of statues. “It was all fine very quickly, but the police were very protective of these statues, which obviously says something about the wider importance of culture. This status is also reflected in the richness and diversity of the street art. It is not the work of passive victims of war, but of people determined to respond with imagination and hope and to integrate these things into their daily lives.”
Sarhandi-Williams says during his career he has often worked in difficult and potentially dangerous situations. “I don’t want to sound like I’m cold and detached because I’m not. I’m terribly emotional about these things. But when I’m behind the lens I become very focused on the image. Getting good compositions and so on. I’m quite analytic as I want to present these places as real environments. War zones are not one thing. There are many different, and sometimes conflicting, atmospheres. People can be frightened and angry and resolute and amazingly cheerful at pretty much the same times. I wanted to capture that diversity.”
In a foreword to the book, the Ukrainian author Andrey Kurkov writes that it “will guide you through today’s Ukraine more honestly than any future history might”. Recognising the roles of artists in “combatting the lived horrors of the Russian invasion”, he believes the book demonstrates the “restorative power of art in a time of war … Art lets us look at today’s pain from the viewpoint of the future, so there can be a future. And it helps us to imagine a future we will wish to remember.”
Ukraine at War: Street Art, Posters + Poetry by Daoud Sarhandi-Williams is published by Interlink.
The art of war: five memorable images from the book
Cossack (main picture)
This poster by Kyiv designer Mykola Honcharov is of a Cossack, a revered model of the Ukrainian warrior, who has swapped his traditional weapons for a Next Generation Light Anti-tank Weapon (NLAW). Ukrainian pronunciation would have the slogan reading as “All You Need Is Love”.
Putin tarot card
Following the Russian invasion, twin sister artists Mishel and Nicol Feldman, operating together as Sestry Feldman, created a Ukrainian-themed pack of tarot cards. Vladimir Putin features in two of them, as The Hanged Man and, here, as the devil.
Sandbagged statue
Across Kyiv, statues were protected by sandbags. This is one of Dante, symbolic of a wider European perspective. The protective work was initially commissioned by the government but was then expanded on by artists who independently worked to fill sandbags and identify monuments.
Pinocchio
Sarhandi-Williams says he encountered little conventional political satire of the newspaper cartoon type, but here we have Russian lies – to the Ukrainians and to their own people – represented in the form of Pinocchio dressed in a Soviet-style Young Pioneer’s cap.
Renaissance mural
This 2014 collaboration between French artist Julien “Seth Globepainter” Malland and the Ukrainian artist, Aleksey Kislov references traditional Ukrainian dress as well as the type of jacket worn by protesters at the time of the 2014 annexation of Crimea.
Group Ginger to overhaul iconic Leeds sculpture gallery
The culture specialists will carry out a major interior overhaul of the sculpture gallery on the Hea…
