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Douglas Gordon: 'I retain the right to do whatever I want' Douglas Gordon: 'I retain the right to do whatever I want'
(5 months later)
In Douglas Gordon’s view, the greatest In Douglas Gordon’s view, the greatest public art installation in history took place in his hometown Glasgow in 1988. Celtic were playing Dundee in the Scottish Cup final, though the art didn’t happen on the pitch but in the stands. The British prime minister had announced her attendance, and union representatives were handing out red leaflets to every spectator at the gates.
public art installation in history took place in his hometown Glasgow “Margaret Thatcher walks into the stadium, and the entire crowd shows her the red card. Isn’t that fantastic?”, he says, sitting in his grand new studio in one of the seedier corners of west Berlin, dropping cigarette ash on the floor with excitement.
in 1988. Celtic were playing Dundee in the Scottish Cup final, though Gordon himself missed the cup final because he had just started art school at the Slade in London, but you can see how it would have fitted easily with his aesthetic. To the wider public, he is best known for another football-themed work, the film Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait, which he did with director Phillip Parreno in 2006.
the art didn’t happen on the pitch but in the stands. The British prime minister had announced her attendance, and union But even his earlier work was distinguished by a refusal to think of art purely as something that is done with a brush and a canvas in a studio. For 24 Hour Psycho, he slowed down Alfred Hitchcock’s classic film so that it lasted 24 hours. When he won the Turner Prize in 1996, it was the first time the judges awarded it an artist working predominantly in video.
representatives were handing out red leaflets to every spectator at Recently, his works have increasingly included collaborations with other artists. K364, another film, portrays two Israeli musicians of Polish heritage travelling to Warsaw to play in an orchestral performance of Mozart’s concerto. Other collaborations include actor James Franco, pianist Hélène Grimaud, director John Tiffany and fashion designer Agnès B – a tendency, he says, inspired by his friend Parreno. “Philippe is the most promiscuous artist I know. I try, but I’m Scottish and not really allowed to be promiscuous.”
the gates. Does he ever worry that it could look like he has lost his focus and is just doing projects with celebrity mates? “That sounds like something my granny would say. When I was at Glasgow school of art, the great thing my teachers said was: never ever walk into a pigeonhole. The idea of art is to be as free as possible. I am the least hippy person. I am an extremely hardcore dogmatic bastard, actually. But I retain the right to do whatever I want.”
“Margaret Thatcher walks into the His contribution to this year’s Sydney Biennale, Phantom, is a 2011 installation featuring two Steinway pianos, one of them burnt, plenty of mirrors, the music of Rufus Wainwright and footage of the singer shot with a ultra-slow-motion Phantom camera.
stadium, and the entire crowd shows her the red card. Isn’t that Phantom is in part also a tribute to Berlin, where Gordon has since 2007 lived with his partner, the Israeli soprano Ruth Rosenfeld, and their five-year-old daughter. The video footage was shot here, and Wainwright’s song is inspired by his fascination with Louise Brooks, the US actress who made her significant films, such as Pandora’s Box, in the German capital.
fantastic?”, he says, sitting in his grand new studio in one of the Gordon describes these mirrorings and hidden links as a “phantastic situation”, the kind of which remain central to his work and which Berlin seems to attract in abundance. From the window of his first studio in the city, he says, he could look into the courtyard of an old film studio where FW Murnau and Hans Richter had made their early films. “If I was stuck for anything I would stand by the window, look across, blow smoke and see if I could see a ghost.”
seedier corners of west Berlin, dropping cigarette ash on the floor Preparations for the Biennale, where Gordon will hold the keynote speech, have been interrupted by protests against the festival’s association with Transfield, the multi-billion-dollar infrastructure company in charge of running mandatory detention centres on the island of Nauru and Manus. Nine artists withdrew from the show, leading to the resignation of the Biennale chairman and Transfield Holdings director, Luca Belgiorno-Nettis, this month.
with excitement. But Gordon, in spite of his love for the red-card protests against Thatcher, views the boycotts critically: “I don’t see any significant change that would have happened if we had all boycotted the event. You have to be somewhere in order to make change. If people want to use the Biennale as a platform to make a point, we need a stage.”
Gordon himself missed the cup final He describes the treatment of refugees in Nauru and Manus as “horrific” and says that as a Scot who has spent a considerable amount of time in Belfast, he is particularly alert to the legacy of English imperialism. But simply boycotting the event would not just have been ineffective, he argues, but also “irresponsible”.
because he had just started art school at the Slade in London, but “If you really want to make a case for something, get your facts together, ask people how you want to marshall forces and do something. You can’t just say: ‘I don’t like this.’ Even the head of the board leaving has nothing to do with what the protest was about. People are still being ferried to Papua New Guinea. Nothing significant has changed there.”
you can see how it would have fitted easily with his aesthetic. To He is aware of the expectations resting on him ahead of the speech, and may consider inviting any protesters to join him on the stage afterwards to continue the debate, though he admits that he is “fucking terrified” of the event.
the wider public, he is best known for another football-themed Is it harder for an artists not to be political now than when it was when he first became successful in the ’90s? “I think we are political, but we’re not politicians. If you believe in what you’re doing as an artist, that’s as democratic as it gets for me.”
work, the film Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait, which he What’s the most politically charged artwork we know, Gordon asks, triggering the detour into the Thatcher’s sending-off at Hampden Park. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t beat Pablo Picasso’s Guernica for him. “Guernica might even not have seemed that relevant at the time when it was made, but it grows and grows and grows. Politicians are meant to act now, but art takes time to mature.”
did with director Phillip Parreno in 2006.
But even his earlier work was
distinguished by a refusal to think of art purely as something that
is done with a brush and a canvas in a studio. For 24 Hour Psycho, he
slowed down Alfred Hitchcock’s classic film so that it lasted 24
hours. When he won the Turner Prize in 1996, it was the first time
the judges awarded it an artist working predominantly in video.
Recently,
his works have increasingly included collaborations with other
artists. K364, another film, portrays two Israeli musicians of Polish
heritage travelling to Warsaw to play in an orchestral performance of
Mozart’s concerto.
Other collaborations include actor James Franco, pianist Hélène
Grimaud, director John Tiffany and fashion designer Agnès B – a tendency, he says, inspired by his friend Parreno. “Philippe
is the most promiscuous artist I know. I try, but I’m Scottish and
not really allowed to be promiscuous.”
Does
he ever worry that it could look like he has lost his focus and is
just doing projects with celebrity mates? “That
sounds like something my granny would say. When I was at Glasgow
school of art, the great thing my teachers said was: never ever walk
into a pigeonhole. The idea of art is to be as free as possible. I am
the least hippy person. I am an extremely hardcore dogmatic bastard,
actually. But I retain the right to do whatever I want.”
His contribution to this year’s Sydney
Biennale, Phantom, is a 2011 installation featuring two Steinway
pianos, one of them burnt, plenty of mirrors, the music of Rufus
Wainwright and footage of the singer shot with a ultra-slow-motion
Phantom camera.
Phantom is in part also a tribute to
Berlin, where Gordon has since 2007 lived with his partner, the
Israeli soprano Ruth Rosenfeld, and their five-year-old daughter. The
video footage was shot here, and Wainwright’s song is inspired by his
fascination with Louise Brooks, the US actress who made her significant
films, such as Pandora’s Box, in the German capital.
Gordon describes these mirrorings and
hidden links as a “phantastic situation”, the kind of which
remain central to his work and which Berlin seems to attract in
abundance. From the window of his first studio in the city, he says,
he could look into the courtyard of an old film studio where FW
Murnau and Hans Richter had made their early films. “If I was stuck
for anything I would stand by the window, look across, blow smoke and
see if I could see a ghost.”
Preparations for the Biennale, where
Gordon will hold the keynote speech, have been interrupted by
protests against the festival’s association with Transfield, the
multi-billion-dollar infrastructure company in charge of running
mandatory detention centres on the island of Nauru and Manus. Nine
artists withdrew from the show, leading to the resignation of the Biennale chairman and Transfield Holdings director, Luca
Belgiorno-Nettis, this month.
But Gordon, in spite of his love for
the red-card protests against Thatcher, views the boycotts
critically: “I don’t see any significant change that would have
happened if we had all boycotted the event. You have to be somewhere
in order to make change. If people want to use the Biennale as a
platform to make a point, we need a stage.”
He describes the treatment of refugees
in Nauru and Manus as “horrific” and says that as a Scot who has
spent a considerable amount of time in Belfast, he is particularly
alert to the legacy of English imperialism. But simply boycotting the
event would not just have been ineffective, he argues, but also
“irresponsible”.
“If you really want to make a case
for something, get your facts together, ask people how you want to
marshall forces and do something. You can’t just say: ‘I don’t like
this.’ Even the head of the board leaving has nothing to do with what
the protest was about. People are still being ferried to Papua New
Guinea. Nothing significant has changed there.”
He is aware of the expectations resting
on him ahead of the speech, and may consider inviting any protesters
to join him on the stage afterwards to continue the debate, though he
admits that he is “fucking terrified” of the event.
Is it harder for an artists not to be
political now than when it was when he first became successful in the ’90s? “I think we are political, but we’re not politicians. If you
believe in what you’re doing as an artist, that’s as democratic as it
gets for me.”
What’s the most politically charged
artwork we know, Gordon asks, triggering the detour into the
Thatcher’s sending-off at Hampden Park. Ultimately, though, it
doesn’t beat Pablo Picasso’s Guernica for him. “Guernica might even
not have seemed that relevant at the time when it was made, but it
grows and grows and grows. Politicians are meant to act now, but art
takes time to mature.”