"PARTY VAN!"
a b& exhibition on the palsied theme of hope, featuring:
the louche curmudgeonry of deborah jackson
the rare hits of one of the beagles and ramses (the healthier one)
the asinine pronunciations of finton ryan
the three-dimensional objects and events of james clegg
the high frequency network noir of michelle hannah
the long now of lewis den hertog
the distributed pedo-objects of john russell
and many, many more...
including a one page pop-up publication with a text by angela mcclanahan eulogising the last breaths of context, and high-def screengrabs of the sun.
The exhibition... is a black storm gathering overhead, spitting flecks of itself onto the windshield and forming a mesh of rivulets ...blacken thought... through which flickering street lights drill at my piss-hole eyes. I drive slowly through this rotten, lumpen lattice-work so we can keep an eye
out for them bringing out their dead. But our vigilance is dampened by a cocktail of distractions. Least of all I have to keep one eye on Pedobear filling his pipe in the passenger seat ... jerking and twitching... piercing all he mentions with his twisted, vitriol breath. A shift with this guy’s a good night, but I can’t trust the baroque fucker.
He’s a bent cop avatar to his bones, got a grain of hell in his voice and rasps a braying data-stream of consonants when he’s got the itch. Saw him lose it one time, out in Granton. We’d found some fresh meat... he’d shake ‘em down like normal but these guys gave him some lip about criticality. Fuckin’ lost it. Tore through some handouts... screamed bile at wine glasses, smoke from his eyes and oil gushing, teeth clamped around the frame, a golf club through the window... and hung these poor bastards out over the pier... Took their bones home for the wall... Got V&.
Psycho. Consistent though... rigour. Tweaked all night about ambient feedback systems, modular control, Liberals, sanctioned critique and adaptation. Took another hit and chattered about loving alienation, loving it so much that it loves you back – can’t let that noise in... that noise gets in and that noise dismantles you. The virulent rehabilitation of criticality in a moment of banality, he rapped.
It’s four hours in and we have to keep up policing this interzone all night... partyvan’s coming down on those artisans... those sorcerers and scandalous fictioneers. Shake a few more down tonight. Just got to drive, and we have the speed of cultural circuitry... We’re communication... hyperstition... thought objects... This partyvan’s the abject re-use of the pervasive dynamics of free-market feedback cycles... for the ends of contingent maladaptation. Jambient lulz.
Me an’ Ped’s on it... Wee bit overdone on his pipe but we’re wired to curate this thing... be memechanics of control... be mobile manager-machine... they’ll want to participate... exhibition’s gonna be a vulgar mytheme/ mysteme inception.
All welcome.
Private view: Fri 13 September 2013, 7-9
Open: Sat 14 September - Sun 6 October 2013
Summerhall
1 Summerhall Place
Edinburgh
EH9 1PL