This has made me consider my interpretation of a manifesto. Would I simply class this as the plaque next to my final piece? Or would a specify my hopes in my documentation, as to not lead the audience on to the intentions of my art?
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
I have also noted that at the very beginning of the planning for the next installment of Biennial, a manifesto of visions and aims goes up on the website straightaway (the Manifesto for 2012 is all ready up)
This has made me consider my interpretation of a manifesto. Would I simply class this as the plaque next to my final piece? Or would a specify my hopes in my documentation, as to not lead the audience on to the intentions of my art?
This has made me consider my interpretation of a manifesto. Would I simply class this as the plaque next to my final piece? Or would a specify my hopes in my documentation, as to not lead the audience on to the intentions of my art?
At the very beginning of this mountain that is our assignment, we were asked to follow the examples of organisations such as the Biennal or general protocol used by Galleries and Exhibitioners.
The main two fundamentals of which are timing and budgeting.
My budgeting began as a rough jotting down of what I'd spend in the last month, I then progressed to make a precise record of the ingoings and outgoings, and furthered to create a 'projected' budget. This is what I expected to pay for materials that I would need in the future, this thereby providing me with a budget.
As I am not actually asking to borrow money from such establishments as the Arts Council or charitys, then my budget doesn't need to be written in blood. It's simply a test of guessimations against the reality of a project, financially.
Here is a screen shot of my second draft budget.
Already, the realisations have exceeded my expectations so this will have to amended again shortly to keep an accurate record.
Timekeeping is not one of my strong points. I tend to sink my teeth into one assignment at a time and go hell for leather until its finished. Right now, this is not possible. I have had to learn to organize my time effectivly, so again this second draft timetable has been drawn up. But yet again, this timetable hasn't been concurrent with the actualization of the project. Problems such as Practical work is taking longer than expected as right now I am trying things for the first time and need time to make mistakes and correct them, research is taking up huge chunks of time compared to that of writing it up in assignment form. However these are all problems that I am encountering and seeking help from professionals that have been in my position and look at how they coped and by what standards.
Here is an example of my second timetable.
The main two fundamentals of which are timing and budgeting.
My budgeting began as a rough jotting down of what I'd spend in the last month, I then progressed to make a precise record of the ingoings and outgoings, and furthered to create a 'projected' budget. This is what I expected to pay for materials that I would need in the future, this thereby providing me with a budget.
As I am not actually asking to borrow money from such establishments as the Arts Council or charitys, then my budget doesn't need to be written in blood. It's simply a test of guessimations against the reality of a project, financially.
Here is a screen shot of my second draft budget.
Already, the realisations have exceeded my expectations so this will have to amended again shortly to keep an accurate record.
Timekeeping is not one of my strong points. I tend to sink my teeth into one assignment at a time and go hell for leather until its finished. Right now, this is not possible. I have had to learn to organize my time effectivly, so again this second draft timetable has been drawn up. But yet again, this timetable hasn't been concurrent with the actualization of the project. Problems such as Practical work is taking longer than expected as right now I am trying things for the first time and need time to make mistakes and correct them, research is taking up huge chunks of time compared to that of writing it up in assignment form. However these are all problems that I am encountering and seeking help from professionals that have been in my position and look at how they coped and by what standards.
Here is an example of my second timetable.
Monday, 7 February 2011
The Story So Far
Well after the wanderings around the Biennal I came back culturally enlightened but slightly confused. We seemed to more fall across the art works and gallery's rather than track them down but it did add to the day in a way.
We walked past a beaten down, old building with bizarre shop window displays, only one caught my eyes and caused the others to look closer....Del Monte plum tomato tins with the slogan 'Pure Murder' emblazoned across them.
We wandered in like small children, giggling and trying to look like we knew we should be there. Attendees looked straight through us.
We were super humans with invisibility at our side.
At first it wasn't clear what was 'art' and what wasn't. There were spray painted oil drums sparsely positioned around the room, with a room further down bathed in darkness.
Straightaway I headed for the darken room, no one else was around, and a bizarre film about a billboard made out of sparkler letters spelling out 'unemployment' was playing to the absent masses. the floorboards were made up of cheap MDF, and gave a more that satisfying 'click' every time I took a step. I increased and decreased my speed, losing my self in the rhythm of the situation. Another traveler came in and sensibilities creeped in. I leave the way Id came and discovered some stairs going further into the building.
I took each step slowly and entered into the Labyrinthine that was Renshaw Street, Liverpool.
Whole corridors were pitch black, no maps or stuffy plaques declaring such as such's life work and the meaning this holds to them. I encountered videos about bipolar transsexuals viewed from a old plane seats and woman torn and imprisoned in their own bodies, lifestyles. I felt liberated but then the freedom was scary.
No highly positioned gallery know-It-All's to badger, no safe little leaflets.
I decided to leave, to run back to the arms of my organized black book or wheres and why fors of the Biennial.
My first taste of the day was sweet but left a bitter taste of confusion on my palate.
We walked past a beaten down, old building with bizarre shop window displays, only one caught my eyes and caused the others to look closer....Del Monte plum tomato tins with the slogan 'Pure Murder' emblazoned across them.
We wandered in like small children, giggling and trying to look like we knew we should be there. Attendees looked straight through us.
We were super humans with invisibility at our side.
At first it wasn't clear what was 'art' and what wasn't. There were spray painted oil drums sparsely positioned around the room, with a room further down bathed in darkness.
Straightaway I headed for the darken room, no one else was around, and a bizarre film about a billboard made out of sparkler letters spelling out 'unemployment' was playing to the absent masses. the floorboards were made up of cheap MDF, and gave a more that satisfying 'click' every time I took a step. I increased and decreased my speed, losing my self in the rhythm of the situation. Another traveler came in and sensibilities creeped in. I leave the way Id came and discovered some stairs going further into the building.
I took each step slowly and entered into the Labyrinthine that was Renshaw Street, Liverpool.
Whole corridors were pitch black, no maps or stuffy plaques declaring such as such's life work and the meaning this holds to them. I encountered videos about bipolar transsexuals viewed from a old plane seats and woman torn and imprisoned in their own bodies, lifestyles. I felt liberated but then the freedom was scary.
No highly positioned gallery know-It-All's to badger, no safe little leaflets.
I decided to leave, to run back to the arms of my organized black book or wheres and why fors of the Biennial.
My first taste of the day was sweet but left a bitter taste of confusion on my palate.
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