It will be tonight

In this wall-mounted sculpture, speakers are mounted into a shelf-like object finished with timber veneer. The speakers play a corny groove stock music soundtrack. On top of the shelf sits a digital photographic image approximating a fireplace floating against a colour-gradient background. This work examines how we construct, represent and deploy notions of nature in our contemporary lives. It mixes the languages of furniture design, landscape photography, digital graphics and sculpture. Drawing on Zygmunt Bauman’s theoretical work on “liquid modernity”, this work questions how and where we find space for contemplation and reflection in a contemporary context increasingly defined by temporary social bonds and consumer choices.

Particle wave

“Particle Wave” is comprised of six lenticular panels hung in an even, horizontal sequence. Each panel alternates between two solid colour fields as you move past it. There are six colours in total, with each colour represented twice in the spectrum. From left to right, the panels move through yellow, orange, magenta, violet, blue, green and back to yellow. The work’s title refers to the two competing theories of light, which can be understood as either paradoxical or complementary. Like these theories, the experience of viewing the work catches us in a double bind. While we can orient ourselves to see solid colour fields one by one, we are never able to fully capture them all at once. In fact, it is only through our continual movement, and the subsequent transitioning of visible colours that we register the complete spectrum. Through this viewing experience, “Particle Wave” actively engages with our peripheral vision and the transitory nature of perception. It plays with the fundamental pleasures of colour and vision, and the uneasy seduction of being unable to grasp multiple phenomena simultaneously.

Hankering

As a man and woman take turns reciting their favourite simple pleasures, text fades in and out on screen. The visible words, which float against a starscape, are approximations and variations of those being spoken. As the video progresses, the voices and the correlating texts start to overlap slightly. What at first seems to be a testiment to small, saccharine satisfactions starts to become a passive-aggressive race for modest contentment. Rubbing the fine line between sweet and sour, “Hankering” plays with the indirect messages that float through our desires, relationships and the languages we use to communicate them.

Auric Variations

A female voice softly recites physical and psychological associations of aura colours. On screen, individual words fade in and out rhythmically amid a field of swirling and morphing colours. The animated words correlate with the words being spoken, but not every word is displayed, therefore enabling an alternative range of verbal associations to emerge. “Auric Variations” plays with the mix of affirmation and anxiety that can underscore contemporary subjective experiences and the new age techniques we sometimes used to understand them.

Mingling

In this video, white words and phrases fade quickly in and out amongst small bursting dots of colour. Set to an energetic, synthesised soundtrack, the animated text combines, and sometimes confuses, an internal monologue with dialogue and overheard conversations. The unfolding narrative follows an unnamed narrator through a crowded social event. By visually and textually mixing self-conscious reflections with polite conversations, “Mingling” explores the social niceties and nervous behaviours that often inform our interpersonal experiences. Through its fast-paced and disjointed rendering of verbal communication, the work playfully draws out the sometimes-awkward and uncomfortable dialogues that exist between personal and social, internal and external, imagined and actual. This work was commission by the Museum of Contemporary Art, Australia (Sydney), to celebrate the organisation’s major redevelopment and acknowledge the generosity of individuals and organisations who supported the capital project.

Outlook

This wall-mounted sculpture features eight photographic prints displayed on a computer monitor mounting system. The eight panels each swivel and articulate separately. Together, they combine to create an abstract landscape based on a desktop background image of an idyllic tropical setting. Recalling the workstation of a futures trader, logistics manager, or design guru, the screen armature draws out the simultaneously romantic and vacuous characteristics of the imagery. By combining the visual languages of both physical and on-screen desktop environments with the pictorial traditions of landscape and abstraction, this work questions how and where we deploy nature, desire and wonderment in our increasingly technologised lives.

Peter Alwast talks to Grant Stevens

This interview was published in the catalogue for Peter Alwast's solo exhibition, "Future Perfect", at the Institute of Modern Art, Brisbane, in August 2011.

Grant Stevens : Are You Upset with Me?

Grant Stevens is ambivalent. The young Brisbane artist made his name with a series of computer-generated animated-text videos that explore clichés but seem undecided as to whether they are trivial and vacuous, profound and authentic or somehow both at once. Stevens plunders mass-media sources (the familiar image repertoire dished up by Hollywood, television, pop music and the Internet) as readymade content. He explores this everyday language, sometimes for its ambiguity, but more often for its almost uncanny lucidity. Resembling meditation and relaxation guides, his recent videos beg the question: what made us so anxious? This book examines Stevens' artistic output over the first ten years of his practice. It includes essays by Mark Pennings and Chris Kraus.

The drift

In this video, text floats on screen amidst a field of swirling coloured orbs and a stock music soundtrack. The text is sourced from Internet dating websites and combine into a single animated portrait charting an array of likes, dislikes, influences, beliefs and hobbies. This work examines the nature of consciousness and identity in a contemporary context. It reworks the languages of Internet dating websites to question how we construct and communicate our sense of self. Drawing on Zygmunt Bauman’s theoretical work on “liquid modernity”, this work presents an exaggerated take on contemporary identity that emphasizes its construction through consumer tastes, lifestyle choices and relationships with popular culture.

Threshold

In this video, the words of a translated poem fade in and out above an abstract, moving horizon line. The animated words are set to an emotive stock music track. This work examines processes of signification. It emphasizes abstraction and disconnection as fundamental and generative operations in making meaning. Extending on post-structural and deconstructionist ideas, this work questions the signifying processes of translation and metaphor. By emphasizing the abstract qualities of a translated love poem, it questions the sites and mechanisms of signification.

Volume

In this video, words describing socially awkward conversations float around an animated cloud of gas. A cosmic stock music track accompanies the words. This work examines processes of signification. It emphasizes multiplicity and disconnection as fundamental and generative operations in making meaning. By playing with the simultaneity of internal monologues and external conversations, it draws attention to the seams, gaps and slippages that occur in signifying acts.

Outcrop

In this wall-mounted sculpture, speakers are mounted into a timber-veneered cabinet. The speakers play a dark, searching soundtrack. Also mounted on the cabinet is a photographic image of a rocky gully in the American desert. This work examines how we construct, represent and deploy notions of nature in our contemporary lives. It mixes the languages of furniture design, landscape photography and sculpture. Drawing on Zygmunt Bauman’s theoretical work on “liquid modernity”, this work questions how and where we find space for contemplation and reflection in a contemporary context increasingly defined by temporary social bonds and consumer choices.

Spin

“Spin” borrows idioms and metaphors from sports commentary and squeezes them into a single emotional rollercoaster. Accompanied by a driving soundtrack, text appears and disappears one word at a time. As the work progresses, multiple words fade in and out at the same time, filling the screen and testing our ability to read and assimilate these well-worn phrases. On the one hand, the work mimes some of what we enjoy about sport – its ability to take us to another place, to incite passion and emotion, and to enable us to share in common experiences, goals and desires. On the other hand, it plays up the hyperbolic language often associated with sports broadcasting. The very language that helps take us to another place, incite passion and make us feel part of something bigger than ourselves, is pushed to its extreme and starts to burst at the seams. This work was commissioned for “Kick Off: contemporary video art program” at Metricon Stadium, Gold Coast, and supported by Project Services, Department of Public Works, Queensland Government.

Swell

In this video, an abstract kaleidoscopic pattern slowly morphs and changes colour. It is accompanied by a male voice performing a word association or stream-of-consciousness activity. This work examines the nature of consciousness and identity in a contemporary context. It mixes the languages of meditation, new age philosophy and pop-psychology. Drawing on Zygmunt Bauman’s theoretical work on “liquid modernity”, this work questions how and where we find space for contemplation in a contemporary context increasingly defined by temporary social bonds, consumer choices and private anxieties.

Whe' yu' from?

"Whe' yu' from?" The question was put to me as I wandered, camera in hand, in the old square of Spanish Town, Jamaica's former capital. The local man, lounging in the shade of one of the colonial Georgian buildings that enclose the square, was mildly curious about what he took to be a typical white tourish photgraphing the sights of the decayed historic town. At that time, my home was in Kingston where i lived with my wife and baby son. I was then working in the Jamaican Government Town Planning Department in a job that took me all over the island. Turning to my questioner, I replied, "Kingston". There was a brief pause, and then the man spoke again: "No Man! Whe' yu' really from?" I still have difficulties when asked this question. Where am I from? What does this question mean? Does it refer to where I was born, where I spent my previous life or where I live now? Does it have a broader meaning, an enquiry about my origins in terms of background and previous experience? The following chapters are my attempt to answer these questions for my own satisfaction and, I hope, for the amusement of others who may be interested in the life of an ordinary English boy whose dream to travel and see the world was realized in ways he could not possibly have imagined. Finding an appropriate title for this book was difficult. Thursday's Child, North and South and War and Peace all came to mind but, unfortunately for me, those titles had been appropriated by other writers. Thursdays's Child is quite a popular book title, presumably because people who were born on that day and, in the words of the nursery rhyme, had 'far to go', are especially likely to have travellers' tales to tell or life stories of the rags-to-riches variety. Born on a Thursday, I have travelled a lot and I suppose that I have gone far in life. Coming from a working class family, I 'got on' by 'getting a good education' and a 'good job'. I decided against adding to the list of Thursday's Children. North and South would have reflected my life in Britain, spent in both the North and South of England, and my later years, divided between the Northern and Southern Hemispheres of the globe, as well as in countries commonly referred to as the 'advanced' North and the 'underdeveloped' South. North and South has already been appropriated by Mrs Gaskell, something that did not deter one popular American writer from using the title for a book of his. My memories of World War Two and the years afterwards made War and Peace a possible candidate, but readers expectnig an epic tale of Tolstoyan proportions may have been disappointed. To my knowledge, no other book has the title "Whe' Yu' From?". I am grateful to the Jamaican man whose question lingered in my memory and provided the title of this memoir, written decades later. This book is a word picture. It is, in a sense, a self-portrait, and like all portraits, it captures something of the character, it attempts to tell the truth, but it is not the whole truth. This is because it is not my intention to write my entire life story; rather I wish to tell about some of the things in my experience of life that have seemed important or interesting to me. Unlike a painted portrait, the picture I have created is intended to suggest the passage of time. While, for most of us in Western society, time is linear and unidirectional, like the flight of an arrov or the trajectory of a bullet, memory rearranges things, calling up images of the past in no particular order, making connections that may link events in various patterns, circular, web-like, superimposed. The stream of consciousness is very unlike that of streams we encounter in the physical world. Connections are made in all directions; thoughts hop back and forth in time and space, from topic to topic. My book is a composition drawn from periods, events and thoughts as I remember them. Like life itself, it is made up of patches, some good, some bad, but in my experience, always fascinating. In recording my memories, I have been as accurate as possible. Little of what I have written is about spectacular sights and strange customs. Much of it focuses on my more modest explorations includng observations of everyday things that have attracted my attention. Reading through the chapters, I am struck by my childhood freedom to roam and engage in 'dangerous' activities like climbing trees and playing beside streams, things that many children today are no longer allowed to enjoy. Also noticeable is the survival of traditions and superstitions from the distant past. Obvious too, is my preoccupation with place names, both official ones that appear on maps and sign boards and those used by locals and children, names rarely seen in print. If there is any uniting theme to be found in what I have written, it must be my education in the fields, woods and streets of my English homeland, in the various other countries in which I have lived and travelled, as well as more formally from books and in classrooms. Much of my book is concerned with people and places. Many of the people I mention are among those who have been, and often have remained, important and close to me. Others I remember from only the briefest of encounters, but they remain in my memory because of some specific incident or circumstance that fixed a lasting image in my mind. Some of my closest friends and relatives, however, appear nowhere in these pages or they receive only the slightest mention. This is not because they played an unimportant roles in my life. It is because this book is not the whole story. Among those whe receive little or no mention are some who are especially close to me, with whom I have shared happy and sad times and who have shown me and my family much kindness, giving support when this was needed. Some I have known since childhood and have popped up at various times in my life, often in different parts of the world. Although years may pass without me seeing them, in an important sense they are always with me. These people know who they are. I hope that they know how much I love and appreciate them. When writing my memoir, I consulted a few of the people mentioned in this book, but in the main, I have relied on my own memory, asided by daiary and notebook entries and old correspondence. In the preparation of this manuscript, I benefited greatly from the expert advice and encouragement of Neil Marr of BeWrite Books. My wife Anne, inspiration for this book, also contributed in the valuable role of critic. She has my undying gratitude.