Transmission review: Penny McCarthy and Tim Etchells, a work about “Absence” (14th Oct 2009)

By Brook Davis

Penny and Tim have provided us with one of those rare moments in art. The creation “in live” of an art work.

At the beginning of the presentation they captivated the audience by stating that before making it they would read some e-mails that were exchanged in order to prepare the presentation. After a few minutes, became obvious that the presentation was none other than the exchange of e-mails, were in the presence of the creation of an art work “in live”.

However, this was the only highlight of the presentation, as the reading of the alleged e-mail showed up boring and incipient, not for the content, but because the way the work was read.

In fact, the intonation given by Tim in his reading, demonstrated a rude unwillingness and imperious absence (subject that the text meant in its entirety) taking us almost thinking that their attitude would be part of the representation, but it was clear that that was not. It was clear the utter lack of willingness of the author to be there.

From Penny, perhaps by empathy, their intonation as the beginning was vibrant, became blurry and insignificant, following the flow.

They ended the presentation with a very quick view of Tim’s past victories (read past works). From the faded Penny, not even a line.

Honestly I expected more from these two authors who already accustomed us with better moments with his class and previous publications.

Want to read more? Writings from my Head

Transmission rambling: A day to forget (14th Oct 2009)

By Xesko

Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring. Basically this is the only thing I have to say about what I saw.

In the beginning Penny McCarthy said that she had challenged his friend Tim Etchells, to make that presentation together and that he had shown first open to the idea and then reluctant.

Tim then, explained that this reluctance was due to being out of the country and therefore not having time to prepare for the conversation, so it had to be prepared by an exchange of e-mails that they would read.

??????????????? But where are we? In Big Brother? What we have to do with the preparation of the work and the exchange of personal e-mails?

Soon they began to read their e-mails that supposedly would have been exchanged during the preparation of the work, e-mails about the lack of time and lack of it and also about Penny’s paranoia about old things and about the past, and through absurd stories about misplaced conversations.

After some time we realize that the alleged e-mails were, in fact, the presentation, thereby demonstrating a rather interesting creativity and putting it to us (the public) before the creation “in live” of an art work.

However, the way Tim, clearly uncomfortable and showing a complete detachment and boredom read the same, became is hearing strangely boring, to the point to hear yawning in the room (apart from a constant clearing throats of the public).

To conclude the presentation, Tim showed some of his earlier work, including a theatrical piece of 6h that approached the absurd, since it was dedicated to the muted conversations, in other words, 6 boring hours based on stories in which the actors are interrupted each other thereby preventing any story comes to an end, supposedly to let the public imagination the completion of the unfinished conversations. Honestly? My opinion? If I had been invited to see that play, after 15 minutes I had get up and walked out the room. Oh! I just remember an important situation that I forgot to mention, supposedly this was expected because attend the play was open to that possibility. Therefore I wonder, what is the interest in this theatrical piece? Demonstrate an alleged erudition exclusive to few, assuming that the weak-minded that did not understand what was going on applaud it assuming that this is a unique work of theatre and, the most erudite, do not understanding the purpose cheer with a creation of a contemporary art work too advanced for them to understand? In my humble opinion, was merely a figure of speech without any specific target that was not the capacity to train those involved, with no need to slaughter the public and should never had passed the rehearsal.

Following the presentation, showed other studies, once again about the absence and of the spirit of her, anyway, nothing interesting worth mentioning. From Penny, completely overshadowed by Tim, absolutely nothing.

Summarize it in one word. Boring.

Want to read more? Writings from my Head

Transmission 14th Oct Tim Etchells and Penny McCarthy

(a) Friendship, right friend-wrong friend. Art favors, what if you like them but not their work. I look across at a friend and briefly consider how much I like them and their work.

Tim, writer, director, variety of forms and fiction- live art. The broken world- online game ‘Legacy thinker in residence’ at tate. Artist talk, expand on the form as makers- a conversation in public. An exchange of texts between Penny and Tim. (Tim needs a drink his mouth sounds sticky)

Unfinished conversations. Incomplete, tie this mess together.

The laptop is where I am. My ears prick up, I can relate to this.

This feels like a rather literary presentation.

Someone has died, it is describedas ‘since he fell out of the world’ an anecdote. His partner made discoveries,I have his laptop now I know everything. I found unexposed film in my father’s study. I cant develop them, I don’t want to know everything.

The form of the incomplete artifact. Pull anti-pull- coherence. Forster ‘Only Connect. (The eternal YES!). There is value in not connecting tho’, the separation between materials, separate narratives side-by-side remain unresolved. When the viewer does the work and connects then the work may become stagnant, dumb and without tension. I disagree, this is when it comes to life, understanding, observation interactio doesn’t kill work it animates it with new life each time. Etchells is so bright, so eloquent and prepared. A true performer and yet, I can’t hear his voice. Where is he. He asks Penny Where are you with time?

Penny is longing for a home. Disposessed, Hollis Frampton, Nostalgia. Its gone. All you have left is the drawing. Romantic, retrieval, restorations, fragments. Erasure.

Talking to dead people. I think of the big other, there looking over ones shoulder as one writes. (I couldn’t say my shoulder as I write…), I used to write a diary for posterity, to be found by someone, when I realised how boring this would be for them I stopped. Now I just write my dreams down. Whe Tim talks about the fictionalised audience I feel embarrassed and look away from him. I now understand that every performance I go to is not just for me. We address those that are not necessarily present. All the time, whether living or dead. Is not being there being dead. Being dead means not being anywhere, and yet omnipresent. Borges…I have the book, I still haven’t read it. Fragments create compulsion and invite interpretation. Like making notes. Will these notes not be really tedious? Sometimes artists can be so boring! Writing and being, by extension, is a form of ventriliquism..being a puppet with the voices speaking through you.

The plagarism text sounds great, like a big cut-up. Its easier in art, you cant work in a vacuum, nothing is new, nothing original. Liberate yourself from the idea you will reinvent the wheel, become known.

Death and the invasion of the mourner’s mind with ‘thoughts’ images, sensations. The place they used to be. It shrinks and leaves a little shrivelled scab.

I realise that in my copius note aking I wasn’t thinking, Tim you are invading my mind with your presentation. I will add thoughts later. He takes a drop of water. I remember what I was thinking when I saw you do that I thought, I’ll write that down, it counteracts the comment about the sticky mouth. I was frustrated by there being only one drop left in the glass I wanted Penny to reach over and fill up the glass.

The work does not come from nowhere. I agree, we are not blank slates, tabula rasa means scraped tablet, the must be traces of the previous document there, and we draw on top palimpestuously. I always liked that changing text piece, it was 4 pages in the Sheffield pavilion. I liked the editing, the self revelation. The changing fiction. When he says ‘the constant revelation of it’s own contingency’ I wish that I could come up with a sentence like that. Right now I wish I could do that to this text, go through, make changes. Sorry, this is what I am writing.

Trust ordered chance, let the book fall open. The books we keep closest at hand are possessed by magic. At my bedside is Marcel Mauss- a general theory of magic.

Penny enjoys- rubbing out, first marks, lawlessness. The texture of time on paper-things that pierce time, leonardos shopping list, the list my dad made the day I was born. Wash dishes, present for baby. Im tired though and my mind isn’t up to it. Down-time. Thinking, interpret your own thoughts, commentary. Half-baked ideas. I do some shading in on the page.