Archive for the ‘Television’ Category
Performing Solidarity in the Poznan
Manchester City supporters performing the ‘Poznan’
It marked a bizarre moment in the nail-biting final match of the British Premier League season. Adopted from the fanatical supporters of the Polish football club Lech Poznań, Manchester City fans started to do the so-called ‘Poznan’: a type of dance in which fans hold on to each others’ shoulder and bounce on the spot. Though crucially, rather than facing the extraordinarily eventful match unfolding on the pitch, the ‘Poznan’ is performed with the back turned to the game. The rarity of these celebrations (usually reserved for finals, calls of honour, or a derby), is matched by the sheer spectacle that these celebrations create.
Lech Poznań supporters at Manchester City, 21 October 2010
From a distance, as the supporters frantically jump with their back turned to the game, the supporters create the effect of a cascading waterfall. Unlike the Mexican Wave, or the ‘La Ola’, in which supporters raise their hands to create a human wave moving 360 degrees through the interior of the stadium (a celebration that always ends with disappointment as the wave ‘dies’), the fascination with the ‘Poznan’ lies in the fact that it has to be performed by nearly everyone in the respective part of the stadium for it to work.
Workers holding each others shoulders as part of the Solidarity movement Solidarność in Poland
As much as football is a team sport, the ‘Poznan’ becomes the team sport equivalent for supporters. It is a collective undertaking that is, perhaps, meant to be a collective signal to the team that their efforts are appreciated. This notion of collectivity in the ‘Poznan’ can be traced back to the Polish roots of the dance: Lech Poznań is well-known for its close ties to the Polish State Railways and the trade unions who were a crucial force in the democratisation of the country in the late 1980s under the banner Solidarity, or Solidarność. Transferred into the context of the modern game, the ‘Poznan’ signifies an appreciation towards the players, the manager, the team owner, but also, it signifies an allegiance and literally a physical bond with fellow supporters. For a brief moment, the dramatic spectacle of the game is superseded by the spectacle – a spectacle within a spectacle – created by the supporters.
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Cognitive Mapping in Anouk Kruithof’s Photography
Anouk Kruithof, ‘Wall of fading memory’, 2012
Tucked away at the back of Hewett Street in Shoreditch, B&N Gallery, which opened its doors in October last year, was the venue for Dutch artist Anouk Kruithof’s first solo exhibition in the UK. Kruithof, better known for her innovative photographic portraits and limited edition artist’s books, made full use of the new gallery space by installing artworks from various mediums: photographs, video art, photomontages, posters and colour copies. The source for this eclectic body of work is an archive of C type prints that Kruithof has collected since she began working as a photographic artist. The most visible work in the gallery is ‘Wall of fading memory’, an assemblage of cut outs to create a ‘wall’ of photographs diagonally stretching from one side of the gallery to the other. Despite the monumental connotations of the artwork’s title, this wall of prints is floating in mid-air and is permeated by empty spaces. Within this huge montage, these holes (for the lack of a better word) can be analyzed in a number of ways, yet to me they signify photography’s ongoing struggle to fully and accurately capture the real.
Film still from Homeland, Series 1, Episode 11
In trying to find an order within a potentially overwhelming amount of visual information, Kruithof assembled the prints according to colour thus somewhat recreating the spectrum of the rainbow that metaphorically stretches through the width of the gallery space. By deconstructing and then re-assembling visual information by colour, Kruithof engages in the very same activity (likely by sheer coincidence) as a CIA agent played by Claire Danes in the new TV series ‘Homeland’. Struggling to comprehend the timeline of a notorious terrorist cell, Danes’ character colour codes classified documents, news reports and photographs, only for her colleague to recognize an emerging pattern and put together the information on a pin wall. Described by the cultural critic Alberto Toscano as ‘cognitive mapping’, a similar desire to deconstruct, order and re-assemble information on a wall or a map can also be seen in other examples of popular culture such as the acclaimed TV series ‘The Wire’. Kruithof appears to tap into precisely these emerging practices, perhaps popularized by TV, yet also evident in every day life: trying to find an order in an age in which information is abundantly and overwhelmingly available.
Anouk Kruithof, ‘Never ending pile of a past’, 2011
Félix González-Torres, untitled, date unknown
Located near the entrance of the gallery is an artwork with the title ‘Never ending pile of a past’. In its original condition it consists of 10.000 colour copies, neatly stacked upon each other, which, in turn, depict a stack of photographic prints photographed from the side. This piece, much like Kruithof’s body of work as a whole, is deeply self-referential, ironic, even dryly humorous: a stack of copies depicting a photograph of a stack of photographs. With this work, Kruithof seeks to reach out from the narrow confines of the gallery world by making the work free of charge, allowing the viewer to become the collector and take a print away. Comparable to the iconoclastic photography projects by the late Félix González-Torres, Kruithof thus appears to challenge the notion of the photograph as unique and treasured artifact. In the context of the commercial gallery system, such a gesture is rarely found considering that the gallery partially depends on the artwork being of some value. With this exhibition Kruithof continues to establish herself as a provocatrice who challenges the viewer, the medium photography, and even the very format in which photography is consumed.
A Photo Op Gone Awry
The political aides and PR consultants of British prime minister David Cameron are usually very astute in arranging photo opportunities. Who could forgot the amazing footage of Cameron playing Ping Pong alongside Barack Obama at a school for children from low-income families in London. Cameron welcomed Obama in May 2011 to reinforce the transatlantic ‘special relationship’. As a result, rather than playing against each other, Cameron doubles up with Obama as they play against two school kids. Cameron might have been slightly overzealous when he high fives Obama on the odd point they scored against the kids, but in essence it was precisely the type of photo op Cameron and Obama were set out to deliver.
These photo ops are highly stage managed and orchestrated events for the assembled media. The angle of the camera, the height of the camera, the distance of the camera to the main subject, the use of artificial or ambient light and the use of personal microphones or sound booms is carefully considered in support of an ideological agenda. So it was the case on the 14th of June 2011 when David Cameron, his deputy Nick Clegg and the Secretary of State for Health Andrew Lansley visited Guy’s hospital in London. The visit coincided with the governments announcement of a recently modified and highly controversial National Health Service reform bill. The emphasis in this reformed bill, it is argued, is on patient care. In other words, the patient is on the top of the agenda.
Nick Clegg and David Cameron at Guy’s hospital
As a result of this re-found emphasis on patient care, the photo op on that day, naturally, would involve a patient. Both Cameron and his deputy Clegg are filmed and photographed as they somewhat casually speak to a hospital patient in his bed. In line with hospital requirements to avoid the spreading of viruses, Cameron and Clegg have rolled up their sleeves and have taken off their ties. Their bright white shirts evokes the image of a doctor’s coat. Here, clearly, prime minister and his deputy briefly perform the role of doctor and head nurse deeply concerned for the well-being of their patient. The added benefit of choosing to speak to an elderly patient, as opposed to a younger person, is that the government projects an image of caring for pensioners – precisely the type of person who paid a life’s worth of taxes and who now deserves to be taken care of when ill.
Dr. David Nunn disrupting a photo op
Yet, precisely because the photo op is so carefully stage managed, it is also prone for accidents. To the utter surprise of everyone, a man claiming to be the most senior surgeon in charge storms into the room by shouting ‘sorry, sorry, sorry …’. By pointing at the camera crews’ long sleeves and ties, he continues: ‘Why is that we are all told to walk around like this and these people…?’ As the regulations clearly state, no long sleeves and ties are allowed in the vicinity of the patient. The man bursting into the room and shouting at TV crews is an absolute photo op and PR disaster. Cameron and Clegg’s near identical facial expression is one of disbelief and bewilderment. The patient meanwhile displays a rather nervous smile. Cameron seeks to diffuse the situation by telling the assembled members of the press: ‘Why don’t we erm, why don’t we, why don’t you disappear… I agree.. out… because we’ve all taken our ties off.’ The perturbed and bow tie wearing surgeon meanwhile (his name is Dr. David Nunn), angrily gesticulates at the TV crews and shouts ‘I’m not having it, now OUT.’ Watch the incident unfold on this Youtube clip:
Dr. David Nunn’s now infamous disruption of the photo op is noteworthy. He is, by totally defying the usual respect and professional distance associated with the photo op, disassembling the very ideological foundation of the event itself. In a matter of a few seconds, all over sudden its not Cameron and Clegg that are in charge, but David Nunn – as he points out the most ‘senior surgeon’ on the ward. Nunn effectively calls an end to the photo op by ordering the TV crews out of the ward. The bizareness of the situation is reinforced by the cameras beginning to shake as their operators head for the exit. If we compare the photo op to (political) theatre, Nunn’s intervention calls to mind the radicalism of the German playwright and director Bertholt Brecht. In his plays, Brecht invited to audience to take a critical view of the action on the stage. Brecht employed the use of techniques that remind the spectator that the play is a representation of reality and not reality itself. Similarly, David Nunn effectively highlighted the constructed nature of the photo op itself and as a result, it turns into a farce. In other words, the photo op loses its very purpose once its constructed nature is uncovered. David Nunn, apparently a brilliant hip replacement surgeon, reminds us in comical fashion how fragile the political stage can be.
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