Smells
Like Risky Business
catalogue essay for RISK, group exhibition at Kings ART,
Melbourne, 2005
So where’s the pic of Yves Klein all busted and broken
on the pavement after his leap into ‘the void’?
Sure – looks good as a photo, but that whole French
jouissance shtick is as laboured as an Akubra hat on an
Australian politician. Klein’s ‘suspension of
belief’ is a testament to how much the modernist world
makes concessions for the artist. In such safely circumscribed
zones of acceptance, risk is extinguished. His photo of
non-action sensationalizes that which is desired to come,
but returns to the drab reality that photography is one
big cum shot that never comes.
Point-of-impact,
frozen-moment, tableaux-vivant, film-still, performance-documentation
– so many photographic modalities dare the viewer
to think beyond the event while preventing any access to
those images. Dude – it’s a camera: just give
me the image of what happens next. Enough of this selective
editing process. The recent rash of faked disaster-gore
mpegs (mostly with people being knocked over by fast speeding
cars and trains) are in the same carney tradition as Klein
and his hucksterism, but they are driven by the base demand
to realize that which comes next.
Risk-taking
resides in the province of promotional charades. Nicole
Kidman takes a risky role by being in a Lars Von Trier movie.
Vin Diesel plays a risky comedic role and subverts his own
persona. Kylie Minogue takes a risk with her image in a
duet with Nick Cave. And my mum plays a risky role in hanging
up her washing. Typecasting is hypecasting: no-one in the
entertainment industries (and that includes everyone from
Yanni to Martin Creed to Kerri-Anne Kennerley) is pigeonholed
anymore. Nowadays, they’re all holes: pock-marks awaiting
the greasepaint of their slippery nothingness.
Artists
follow suit closely. How predictable to erratically/spontaneously/randomly
‘change one’s style’ – as if one’s
identity is worth anything in the first place. In an era
where schizophrenia is as invisibly ubiquitous as air-conditioning,
the privileging of identity through a pseudo-salacious dance
across media/styles/projects borders on the offensive. How
outré to confound your own market – woollen
threads died with raspberries from Mildura this biennale;
inflatable bubbles covered with Metcards and Corn Flakes
next triennial. Wow – I can’t keep track of
your aimless ‘specialness’ as an artist.
Business
and money-making is meant to be based on risk-taking, but
it rarely is. Your house, your car, your dumb spouse, your
stupid kids and the school you’re sending them to
ensure that you take as many risks as I take suppositories.
That’s why business flaunts its riskiness with all
the flatulent pomp of a Ben Elton play. Check the names
of companies these days. Wacko Gecko. The Bloated Frog.
Harvey’s Old Datsun. “Are you crazy naming your
company that?” Yeah – because you’re a
real ‘insane’ character. You better go and check
that the builder has finished putting child-proof fencing
around your swimming pool: I’d hate you to risk having
your baby float belly-up like your business will.
What
stinks most about taking risks? The allusion to there being
‘something at stake’. The whole deal that you’ve
invested so greatly into something that you put everything
at risk to go that one step further to achieve your dream.
That’s smelly enough. But then the culture that accords
bravery medals to those that take risks pongs big-time.
The guy who invented skinny leather ties in the 80s –
people probably thought he was taking risks, but he succeeded.
Big fucking deal. Sportsmen of any kind in a dangerous situation
– like do I give a damn if you live or die? Those
who climb mountains because they’re there. Those who
sail the world in small boats. Those that walk under ladders.
The only substanial risks are those that don’t pay
off and remain hidden, lost, unknown. Like filmmakers with
ideas. Actors with crabs. Artists with no ‘practice’.
You using milk 3 days past the use-by-date. Me wearing boxer
shorts and typing the name Bob Seeger.
Philip
Brophy on behalf of Tom Cruise.
