posts tagged "LINE magazine"

PEERTOPEER@WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? RYAN TRECARTIN,RACHEL MACLEAN AND GENERATIONAL HYSTERIA by Ivan Knapp

Ryan Trecartin, Photo by Fulvio Orsenigo

This year the Zabludowicz collection in London has bookended its exhibitions programme with two artists of a similar age but who are at very different stages of their career. So, in the glare of a thought grenade thrown carelessly into the public sphere by Peter Schejdhal (“Ryan Trecartin is the most significant artist to have merged since the 1980s”) and Massiniliano Gioni’s interpretation of Trecartin’s work as exemplary of an emerging “hysterical realism”, it seems appropriate to expose the young Scottish Artist Rachel Maclean’s work to the revelatory light of these bold claims. Just what is hysteric about Trecartin’s work to begin with? What relationship does it bare to any sort of “realism” – and by extension reality? And how might it be considered as exemplary of a generational symptom which is locatable in an increasingly wide number of works by those like Maclean, to borrow a marketing meme, younger than Jesus?

Read More

Can someone tell me who I am? | King Lear

Well, now that we have seen each other, said the unicorn, if you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you | Through the Looking-Glass

The world can’t be like this, or I can’t be in it | The Radicalisation of Bradley Manning

The Pleasure of the File

image

A Foucauldian anxiety over information and the way it is accessed, received and composed has opened the archive up to intense scrutiny and interrogation within contemporary art practice. If history is never truly ‘knowable,’ but actually a series of interpretations manipulated through successive contemporary concerns; whether these are ideological or distilled through the dominant methods of disseminating information, the margin for error in the archive is great. Taryn Simon’s recent project The Picture Collection exposed the complexities, arbitrariness and chance inherent in the archive’s codes through her work in the New York Picture Library. The archive, which holds 1.2million images taken from secondary sources and is organised into a complex cataloguing system of over 12,000 subject headings, was Simon’s material for investigation in the work. Selecting categories such as ‘Chiaroscuro, Handshaking, Haircombing, Express Highways, Financial Panics, Israel, and Beards and Moustaches’ she then overlapped the presented images so that only fragments were visible. For example, the word ‘Veil’ produced a series of incongruous images of women in bridal wear and burkhas, producing a visually inconsistent composite that served to undermine the reliability of the cataloguing system.

A productive way to side step the potential errors of viewing history as a rigid, static or ‘objective’ pursuit is to re-evaluate the pre-occupation with truth that the archive operates upon. What happens if the historical document is used as a springboard for new discoveries; for re-enactment and re-invention, for the opening of spaces where the unexpected can arise; spaces that cannot exist without artistic intervention? Alongside increasing attempts to correct and expose the archive’s errors and omissions there is a growing alternative model for accessing and understanding history that uses error as a tool to unique and creative ends. ‘Error’ here refers to the deliberate deconstruction of the dominant logic of the archive by reversing or challenging its terms. These include the artist’s unfaithfulness to its material through re-enactment or heavy-handed appropriation, the dismissal of the idea of history as linear progression and a de-fetishisation of visible remains and ‘originals’. 

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TARYN SIMON Folder: Accidents, 2012 Taken from the Picture CollectionArchival pigment print
Archiving systems impose an illusory structural order on the radically chaotic and indeterminate nature of everything.—Taryn Simon

TARYN SIMON Folder: Accidents, 2012 Taken from the Picture Collection
Archival pigment print

Archiving systems impose an illusory structural order on the radically chaotic and indeterminate nature of everything.
—Taryn Simon


Anton Henning
Talbot Rice Gallery
5th August – 22nd October, 2011
As part of Talbot Rice Gallery’s education and events programme, the venue hosts a course entitled Postmodernism in Art: Bad Painting and the Work of Anton Henning. Where postmodernism is now a household term applied to every kind of contemporary excess, from internet pornography to reality television, it’s likely the mainstream still finds the notion of bad painting a little hard to swallow.
Despite being an instance of newspeak, a course teaching us the inverted codes of postmodern aesthetics alongside Henning’s show at Talbot Rice, is in no way coincidental. Throughout, Henning’s exhibition is a lesson in bad taste. The gallery has been turned into a gauche bachelor pad, complete with carpet, a stylish couch and pictures of naked ladies. The paintings, rendered in various styles, hung on brightly painted walls, are ghastly. Appropriating elements from various milestones in the history of modernism, from abstraction to minimalism, the show is a lively jumble of painting, sculpture and video. 
At its best, the exhibition brings to mind the Vienna Secession, where design, painting and eroticism were stable allies. The series of paintings entitled Pin Up – showing women with no clothes on, often lying submissively or posing seductively – is at times funny. One assumes that these ill-proportioned depictions of women are unlikely to arouse even the most visually-starved of teenagers, and are merely bad jokes – more likely to provoke us than appeal to our desires.
The series of abstract paintings called Interieur perhaps best exemplifies what the gallery terms “bad painting”. Looping lines and triangular planes are rendered in often bright colours, bringing to mind the work of Dadaist Francis Picabia and German artist Martin Kippenberger – both harbingers of bad art. But where the radical impetus is clear with Picabia, and Kippenberger’s humour more than apparent, with Henning it’s unclear what exactly he aims to achieve. In the end, the work is simply not bad enough to be radically anti-art or clever enough to be particularly funny.
Curiously, we find ourselves in this postmodern paradox: uncertain how to judge something that is knowingly bad (against what are we to measure its success?) we nonetheless find ourselves weighing it against its own absurd idiom. Put simply, he is not good enough at being bad enough. By baiting us into such an absurd conclusion, the show is in every way a success.

____

Andrew Cattanach 

Anton Henning

Talbot Rice Gallery

5th August – 22nd October, 2011

As part of Talbot Rice Gallery’s education and events programme, the venue hosts a course entitled Postmodernism in Art: Bad Painting and the Work of Anton Henning. Where postmodernism is now a household term applied to every kind of contemporary excess, from internet pornography to reality television, it’s likely the mainstream still finds the notion of bad painting a little hard to swallow.

Despite being an instance of newspeak, a course teaching us the inverted codes of postmodern aesthetics alongside Henning’s show at Talbot Rice, is in no way coincidental. Throughout, Henning’s exhibition is a lesson in bad taste. The gallery has been turned into a gauche bachelor pad, complete with carpet, a stylish couch and pictures of naked ladies. The paintings, rendered in various styles, hung on brightly painted walls, are ghastly. Appropriating elements from various milestones in the history of modernism, from abstraction to minimalism, the show is a lively jumble of painting, sculpture and video. 

At its best, the exhibition brings to mind the Vienna Secession, where design, painting and eroticism were stable allies. The series of paintings entitled Pin Up – showing women with no clothes on, often lying submissively or posing seductively – is at times funny. One assumes that these ill-proportioned depictions of women are unlikely to arouse even the most visually-starved of teenagers, and are merely bad jokes – more likely to provoke us than appeal to our desires.

The series of abstract paintings called Interieur perhaps best exemplifies what the gallery terms “bad painting”. Looping lines and triangular planes are rendered in often bright colours, bringing to mind the work of Dadaist Francis Picabia and German artist Martin Kippenberger – both harbingers of bad art. But where the radical impetus is clear with Picabia, and Kippenberger’s humour more than apparent, with Henning it’s unclear what exactly he aims to achieve. In the end, the work is simply not bad enough to be radically anti-art or clever enough to be particularly funny.

Curiously, we find ourselves in this postmodern paradox: uncertain how to judge something that is knowingly bad (against what are we to measure its success?) we nonetheless find ourselves weighing it against its own absurd idiom. Put simply, he is not good enough at being bad enough. By baiting us into such an absurd conclusion, the show is in every way a success.

____

Andrew Cattanach 

An Interview with Tamsyn Challenger, creator of 400 Women
4th August – 4th September 2011
Canongate Venture, 5 New Street, Edinburgh
First it was the author, then art itself (tricky), then painting, and now even emotions are kicking the art-world bucket. Shame is dead - or so proclaim some recent artistic productions. The argument goes something like: the ruling discourse (consumerism) forbids us to feel shame; profanity is impossible as there has been a leveling out across culture to include the profane. We therefore accept into the sphere of culture with no religious or puritan discernment, pleasure at every opportunity. 
Against this claim, however, stands 400 Women: Five years work (mostly in isolation) towards the production of 175 portraits of raped and murdered girls and women from Ciudad Juárez, Mexico by 175 different artists invited to contribute. Its creator, Tamsyn Challenger, attributes all this action to an initial feeling of intense shame which sparked the project. Travelling alone in Mexico, Challenger met Consuelo Valenzuela, a women whose daughter, Julieta, had gone missing at the age of 17: ‘When I was just about to leave her she pushed these postcards with a picture of her daughter on them into my hands. The translator was shouting, “she wants you to give these to anyone, anyone you know, so that she might be found!” It was quite a scene she created, we were in a public place, and I felt very frightened…I didn’t take the postcards. Almost immediately after that I felt a horrible sick, sick sort of a shame at the fact that I had just wanted to get away from this woman.’
Conversation with Challenger is riddled with these descriptions of heart-breaking experiences, to the point that the art she has created out of these encounters seems secondary in discussion to them at times. It becomes apparent that the portraits created are the girls or women depicted for her; not merely representations of lives, but surrogate lives. When asked about this Challenger replies, ‘That’s true. It was vital that each work was individual – each girl somehow brought back. And maybe I shouldn’t say this, but there are works that I am not as keen on as others, but that’s what it’s like with people.’ As it was for feminist artists in the ‘70s, for Challenger ‘political work comes from a personal core’. Taking a critical mass of 175 cases of brutal gender violence for which justice is yet to be achieved, Challenger lives up to her name by bathing these cases of injustice in light for all to see, metaphorically and literally in the show’s Edinburgh venue, Canongate Venture. The window sills of this dilapidated former school are littered with dead butterflies.
It is clear making this work has been Challenger’s raison d’etre for the last five years; living with the weight of sadness each portrait of each murdered girl embodies; she knows each girl’s story by-heart. It is curious that the artist has taken the task of representing these girls upon herself: an atheist, westerner, living in London with “no need” to confront this level of anguish on a daily basis. She could have returned from Mexico and selectively forgotten like everyone else. But as she says, ‘gender violence is not just something going on “over there”. There’s an unspoken acceptance (of gender violence) and exposing that was something that was very important conceptually. One in four women suffer domestic violence in this country and it’s the same sort of figure in the U.S..’ Her reasons for bringing a show about Mexican women to Edinburgh, Amsterdam and hopefully the U.S. and Australia next year become clearer. ‘It is not about ensuring respect for the life of “the other” in these countries’, Challenger remarks, ‘it’s about valuing the life if the “any”. 400 is about our similarities to these women as opposed to our differences from them.’ This belief in the value of ‘bare life’ to use the term coined by Giorgio Agamben for those people who live without basic human rights attributed to them is what the show also represents. 400 exposes the fact that though these women were living in Mexico with the supposed rights attributed to any human being in this country, the fact of their gender left them unprotected, rendered ‘bare’. 400 displays the poverty of female life in not just certain impoverished countries, but globally, on a scale of achievement with “one in four women suffering gender violence” coming top – a worrying winner.
Of course, the information impressed upon the viewer as they enter Canongate Venture in the form of action cards printed by Amnesty International, the curator, Gemma Rolls-Bentley’s essay in the accompanying exhibition guide, and the tragically long list of names of the girls pictured constructs the perspective from which one views the show. The artist and curator work together to cleverly enforce a way of seeing these strikingly diverse portraits/surrogate lives which makes the viewer feel ashamed to “have a favourite” – as if picking the prettiest prisoner in the firing-line out only to see them blasted to pieces all the same. And so Challenger accomplishes that which recent contemporary art had declared impossible.
What is also interesting is the artist’s working relationship with the curator of 400 Women and the degree to which it differs from the contemporary norm. Challenger explains this relationship by quoting John Baldesarri, ‘”What disturbs me is a growing tendency for artists to be used as art materials, like paint, canvas, etc. I am uneasy about being used as an ingredient for an exhibition recipe, i.e., to illustrate a curator’s thesis. It’s sandpapering the edges off of art to make it fit.”’[3] 400 Women resists this sort of co-option; the curation is made to fit the work rather than the work being forced to fit the curation. The artist is, for once, queen of her castle. 
One question remains in this interview and it is markedly more important than “which is your favourite?” What can, and has, 400 Women achieved and does the artist believe it can create change? ‘I never made the work thinking that men were going to stop hitting women because they’d seen it, that that was going to be an achievable change. I hope, if anything, that 400 could potentially inspire other people and then grow in momentum, because I think to make real change you have to have not just one individual: I think you need politicians, writers, philosophers, artists, and obviously you need the public to engage, producing a ground swell. I do believe that justice can still be achieved somehow for these women and girls, however; some recognition of what has been happening for nearly two decades can, I hope, be attained. I believe in the power of art, and I believe in the power of object. These women’s lives have been disregarded in a way that this work hasn’t been, and each portrait in the 400 installation hasn’t been, so it’s a sad irony of our times that these objects have more significance than each of those young women’s lives had.’ 
The “change question” is a horrible one: the problem not least being that the people most likely to see this show in the Edinburgh Art Festival, for example, are less likely to be ignorant wife-beaters, despite the high percentage of men who seem to fit this category statistically-speaking. For this show to have the capacity to effect change the audience for art needs to be modified first: augmented to include more areas of society. This is not to say, however, that this sort of art should not be made. On the contrary; it is ‘vital’ for gender violence to be acknowledged so that action can be taken by the very same people who can do something about it: and we are back to those middle-class viewers of art it currently seems to reach so many of.
Asking Challenger about the slightly controversial issue of whether the mothers of each of the girls all know that their images have been used she cannot answer positively for certain. Some will find this ethically dubious. One thing for me, is certain, however, I have never seen an exhibition of portraiture that breathed so much life into its sitters. There is some comfort for the mothers in this perhaps: these girls, taken cruelly and too young, live on, and see the world, through art. And crucially, the world sees them; no longer ‘bare life’.
____
Sarah Hardie
 
 This idea was the core statement of Via Negativa’s theatrical production, Via Nova, performed in the C.C.A., Glasgow as part of the New Territories International Festival of Live Art, March 2011
 Giorgio Agamben in T.J. Demos’s Life Full of Holes, published in Grey Room, no. 24, Autumn 2006
 John Baldessari in Jens Hoffmann’s project, The Next Documenta Should be Curated by an Artist, 1993

An Interview with Tamsyn Challenger, creator of 400 Women

4th August – 4th September 2011

Canongate Venture, 5 New Street, Edinburgh

First it was the author, then art itself (tricky), then painting, and now even emotions are kicking the art-world bucket. Shame is dead - or so proclaim some recent artistic productions. The argument goes something like: the ruling discourse (consumerism) forbids us to feel shame; profanity is impossible as there has been a leveling out across culture to include the profane. We therefore accept into the sphere of culture with no religious or puritan discernment, pleasure at every opportunity.

Against this claim, however, stands 400 Women: Five years work (mostly in isolation) towards the production of 175 portraits of raped and murdered girls and women from Ciudad Juárez, Mexico by 175 different artists invited to contribute. Its creator, Tamsyn Challenger, attributes all this action to an initial feeling of intense shame which sparked the project. Travelling alone in Mexico, Challenger met Consuelo Valenzuela, a women whose daughter, Julieta, had gone missing at the age of 17: ‘When I was just about to leave her she pushed these postcards with a picture of her daughter on them into my hands. The translator was shouting, “she wants you to give these to anyone, anyone you know, so that she might be found!” It was quite a scene she created, we were in a public place, and I felt very frightened…I didn’t take the postcards. Almost immediately after that I felt a horrible sick, sick sort of a shame at the fact that I had just wanted to get away from this woman.’

Conversation with Challenger is riddled with these descriptions of heart-breaking experiences, to the point that the art she has created out of these encounters seems secondary in discussion to them at times. It becomes apparent that the portraits created are the girls or women depicted for her; not merely representations of lives, but surrogate lives. When asked about this Challenger replies, ‘That’s true. It was vital that each work was individual – each girl somehow brought back. And maybe I shouldn’t say this, but there are works that I am not as keen on as others, but that’s what it’s like with people.’ As it was for feminist artists in the ‘70s, for Challenger ‘political work comes from a personal core’. Taking a critical mass of 175 cases of brutal gender violence for which justice is yet to be achieved, Challenger lives up to her name by bathing these cases of injustice in light for all to see, metaphorically and literally in the show’s Edinburgh venue, Canongate Venture. The window sills of this dilapidated former school are littered with dead butterflies.

It is clear making this work has been Challenger’s raison d’etre for the last five years; living with the weight of sadness each portrait of each murdered girl embodies; she knows each girl’s story by-heart. It is curious that the artist has taken the task of representing these girls upon herself: an atheist, westerner, living in London with “no need” to confront this level of anguish on a daily basis. She could have returned from Mexico and selectively forgotten like everyone else. But as she says, ‘gender violence is not just something going on “over there”. There’s an unspoken acceptance (of gender violence) and exposing that was something that was very important conceptually. One in four women suffer domestic violence in this country and it’s the same sort of figure in the U.S..’ Her reasons for bringing a show about Mexican women to Edinburgh, Amsterdam and hopefully the U.S. and Australia next year become clearer. ‘It is not about ensuring respect for the life of “the other” in these countries’, Challenger remarks, ‘it’s about valuing the life if the “any”. 400 is about our similarities to these women as opposed to our differences from them.’ This belief in the value of ‘bare life’ to use the term coined by Giorgio Agamben for those people who live without basic human rights attributed to them is what the show also represents. 400 exposes the fact that though these women were living in Mexico with the supposed rights attributed to any human being in this country, the fact of their gender left them unprotected, rendered ‘bare’. 400 displays the poverty of female life in not just certain impoverished countries, but globally, on a scale of achievement with “one in four women suffering gender violence” coming top – a worrying winner.

Of course, the information impressed upon the viewer as they enter Canongate Venture in the form of action cards printed by Amnesty International, the curator, Gemma Rolls-Bentley’s essay in the accompanying exhibition guide, and the tragically long list of names of the girls pictured constructs the perspective from which one views the show. The artist and curator work together to cleverly enforce a way of seeing these strikingly diverse portraits/surrogate lives which makes the viewer feel ashamed to “have a favourite” – as if picking the prettiest prisoner in the firing-line out only to see them blasted to pieces all the same. And so Challenger accomplishes that which recent contemporary art had declared impossible.

What is also interesting is the artist’s working relationship with the curator of 400 Women and the degree to which it differs from the contemporary norm. Challenger explains this relationship by quoting John Baldesarri, ‘”What disturbs me is a growing tendency for artists to be used as art materials, like paint, canvas, etc. I am uneasy about being used as an ingredient for an exhibition recipe, i.e., to illustrate a curator’s thesis. It’s sandpapering the edges off of art to make it fit.”’[3] 400 Women resists this sort of co-option; the curation is made to fit the work rather than the work being forced to fit the curation. The artist is, for once, queen of her castle. 

One question remains in this interview and it is markedly more important than “which is your favourite?” What can, and has, 400 Women achieved and does the artist believe it can create change? ‘I never made the work thinking that men were going to stop hitting women because they’d seen it, that that was going to be an achievable change. I hope, if anything, that 400 could potentially inspire other people and then grow in momentum, because I think to make real change you have to have not just one individual: I think you need politicians, writers, philosophers, artists, and obviously you need the public to engage, producing a ground swell. I do believe that justice can still be achieved somehow for these women and girls, however; some recognition of what has been happening for nearly two decades can, I hope, be attained. I believe in the power of art, and I believe in the power of object. These women’s lives have been disregarded in a way that this work hasn’t been, and each portrait in the 400 installation hasn’t been, so it’s a sad irony of our times that these objects have more significance than each of those young women’s lives had.’ 

The “change question” is a horrible one: the problem not least being that the people most likely to see this show in the Edinburgh Art Festival, for example, are less likely to be ignorant wife-beaters, despite the high percentage of men who seem to fit this category statistically-speaking. For this show to have the capacity to effect change the audience for art needs to be modified first: augmented to include more areas of society. This is not to say, however, that this sort of art should not be made. On the contrary; it is ‘vital’ for gender violence to be acknowledged so that action can be taken by the very same people who can do something about it: and we are back to those middle-class viewers of art it currently seems to reach so many of.

Asking Challenger about the slightly controversial issue of whether the mothers of each of the girls all know that their images have been used she cannot answer positively for certain. Some will find this ethically dubious. One thing for me, is certain, however, I have never seen an exhibition of portraiture that breathed so much life into its sitters. There is some comfort for the mothers in this perhaps: these girls, taken cruelly and too young, live on, and see the world, through art. And crucially, the world sees them; no longer ‘bare life’.

____

Sarah Hardie

 

This idea was the core statement of Via Negativa’s theatrical production, Via Nova, performed in the C.C.A., Glasgow as part of the New Territories International Festival of Live Art, March 2011

Giorgio Agamben in T.J. Demos’s Life Full of Holes, published in Grey Room, no. 24, Autumn 2006

John Baldessari in Jens Hoffmann’s project, The Next Documenta Should be Curated by an Artist, 1993

Grassroots Activity: Underground at the Edinburgh Art Festival.

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‘Heimat,’ 31st July - 28th August. Tues – Sunday, 12 -6pm. Patriothall.

Group show featuring the work of Andrea Geile, Michi Graper, Emma Herman-Smith, Tanja Romer and Duncan Robertson.

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SUPERCLUB Summer Programme: Superclub Studios,11a Gayfield Square

SUPERCLUB is committed to a DIY approach to creating and disseminating art through fanzines, gigs, screenings, performances and events, as well as exhibitions. Their festival schedule supports local and emerging talent as well as international contributors with the intention of creating new dialogues within a dynamic environment.

The Summer Programme 2011 allows each of the four committee members (Ross Christie, Catherine Johnston, Matthew Swan and Callum Monteith) to curate an exhibition of their choice over the four weeks. They are as follows:

Week 1: 4th - 8th August, PBVIDS by Pete Burr

Week 2: 11th – 15th  August, Threshold by Brian Cheesewright,

Week 3: 18th – 22nd August, Boondocks by Clusterbomb and Friends

Week 4: 25th – 29th August, Eric Shaw

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Open Studios, 5th – 31st August, 11am – 6pm.  Vermillion Studios, East Crosscauseway

Vermillion Studios presents its Open Exhibition once again this year, with four painters in its studios offering a range of work involving Edinburgh architecture, photography and painting fusion, as well as sculptural, figurative and lyrical paintings.

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‘Versatile Beings,’ 5th – 30th August, 11am – 6pm daily. Arts Complex, 151 London Road.

This group show brings together artists and performers working within the fields of movement, dance and visual art. Work includes photography, drawing, video, installation, computer technology and street interventions, exploring the innovative ways of producing interdisciplinary work through the dynamic and playful use of the body.

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Edinburgh Art Reader, Thursdays 8pm. Waverley Bar.

This platform allows theoretical texts to develop into separate conversations based on the unique cultural and social economies particular to the discussion’s context, as well as the individual practices and knowledge of participants. Forthcoming discussion points within the group are available on our blog: linemagazine.tumblr.com

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Noir! #9 A Tribute to Alexander McQueen, 13th August, 8pm. Dissection Room, 1 Summerhall.

Alexander McQueen’s legacy of bold, brave ingenuity continues to inspire beyond the borders of the fashion world. Noir! #9 takes this opportunity to respectfully commemorate his burial on the Isle of Skye and celebrate a true genius through cutting edge fashion, art, film and music.

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Smile, 13th August – 28th August, Thurs – Sun 12 – 6pm. Embassy: 10b Broughton Lane.

The new spirit of hippiedom/capitalism is one lead by 4th generation Goa goers, Mr. Houellebecq and Sienna Miller. A possibility of an island that patents yoga moves. These artists draw poi patterns across a melting sky.

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A Venetian Ball, 18th August, 10pm – 3am, Wee Red Bar.

This ball pays tribute to Venice as the host of culture and hedonism and will include installations, performance, film and a Sofia Coppola-style soundtrack. Masks are essential and for those of you without one, a template to cut out will be printed on the back of the Line Magazine special edition postcards.

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Now That’s What I Call Entertainment 2011: 27th August, 8pm - 11pm at Superclub Studios.

For the duration of the Arts Festival Nick Anderson is carrying out an existential survey, questioning ‘why we are all here anyway’ and searching for his place within the proliferation of events and exhibitions that define proceedings. The findings of this analysis comes into fruition on the 27th August with an evening of live but as yet, undetermined performance.

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‘I’ve Zine You,’ 28th – 29th August, 10am - 8pm. Scottish Book Trust, Royal Mile.

Artists and makers will display a fantastic and eclectic range of small edition books, comics and zines, packed with photographs, prints, photocopies and scribbles; the very best and latest of throwaway contemporary culture.

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Collated by Rachael Cloughton

A video walkthrough of Karla Black’s exhibition at 54th Venice Biennale 2011

Fruitmarket Gallery