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Generation: the mega-show that proves Scottish art is fizzing with energy Generation: the mega-show that proves Scottish art is fizzing with energy
(34 minutes later)
What kind of administration might an independent Scotland have? Perhaps it would be the Parliament of Funk, the Psychedelic Utopia, or the Rockabilly Empire.What kind of administration might an independent Scotland have? Perhaps it would be the Parliament of Funk, the Psychedelic Utopia, or the Rockabilly Empire.
That's what I found myself thinking as I paced the kaleidoscopic disco floor that is Jim Lambie's Zobop. This 1999 classic of contemporary Scottish art is made of lines of coloured tape that completely fill a room. Installed at Edinburgh's Fruitmarket Gallery as part of the mega-exhibition Generation: 25 Years of Contemporary Art in Scotland, which can be seen at venues all over Scotland this summer, it is ecstatic, hallucinatory – the ultimate legal high. Lambie is a rock'n'roll Matisse. His chromatic cocktails set the mind free.That's what I found myself thinking as I paced the kaleidoscopic disco floor that is Jim Lambie's Zobop. This 1999 classic of contemporary Scottish art is made of lines of coloured tape that completely fill a room. Installed at Edinburgh's Fruitmarket Gallery as part of the mega-exhibition Generation: 25 Years of Contemporary Art in Scotland, which can be seen at venues all over Scotland this summer, it is ecstatic, hallucinatory – the ultimate legal high. Lambie is a rock'n'roll Matisse. His chromatic cocktails set the mind free.
Lambie's art exemplifies two things typical of contemporary Scottish art. First, it's obsessed with music, and I don't mean Highland pipers. His art fizzes with pop history: his works at the Fruitmarket include an Earth, Wind & Fire album cover and a polychrome LP collection. Second, so much of this art has a socially aware, even civic, dimension. Just as Joseph Beuys tried to change the world with felt, Lambie tries to with funky colour. Lambie's work exemplifies two things typical of contemporary Scottish art. First, it's obsessed with music, and I don't mean Highland pipers. His art fizzes with pop history: his works at the Fruitmarket include an Earth, Wind & Fire album cover and a polychrome LP collection. Second, so much of this art has a socially aware, even civic dimension. Just as Joseph Beuys tried to change the world with felt, Lambie tries to with funky colour.
An art movement is not something you can fake. Liverpool has its biennial and Gateshead its Baltic, but neither has a serious international art scene. Scotland does. In the late 1980s, London produced a generation of young British artists who were quickly feted by the international art world. Glasgow was becoming an equally creative art scene at the same time but, where England's YBAs are rich celebrities now and London's art scene is profoundly commercialised, Glasgow art has managed to stay young. As the artist and teacher at Glasgow School of Art Ross Sinclair told me at his terrific exhibition atop Edinburgh's Calton Hill, where he plans to help young people form rock bands and is giving away electric guitars, there's still not much money changing hands for art in Glasgow. Maybe that's why it still has the raw edge and sense of shared fun that make for a true avant-garde environment.An art movement is not something you can fake. Liverpool has its biennial and Gateshead its Baltic, but neither has a serious international art scene. Scotland does. In the late 1980s, London produced a generation of young British artists who were quickly feted by the international art world. Glasgow was becoming an equally creative art scene at the same time but, where England's YBAs are rich celebrities now and London's art scene is profoundly commercialised, Glasgow art has managed to stay young. As the artist and teacher at Glasgow School of Art Ross Sinclair told me at his terrific exhibition atop Edinburgh's Calton Hill, where he plans to help young people form rock bands and is giving away electric guitars, there's still not much money changing hands for art in Glasgow. Maybe that's why it still has the raw edge and sense of shared fun that make for a true avant-garde environment.
For the purposes of such a behemoth event – a sort of nationalist biennale – all Scotland is Glasgow. The creativity emanating from that city is invading galleries from Dumfries to the Orkneys. Crossing the Tay Bridge into Dundee, I found three artists recreating a pop-up Glasgow art bar they first made in 2010 called le Drapeau Noir (the Black Flag), decorated with their own works and set alight by readings from the likes of Glasgow novelist Alasdair Gray and, inevitably, artists' indie bands. At Dundee Contemporary Art, the bar's founders Rob Churm, Raydale Dower and Tony Swain are exhibiting around a live stage decorated with their Black Flag-in-punk homage to the utopian art of the Russian revolution.For the purposes of such a behemoth event – a sort of nationalist biennale – all Scotland is Glasgow. The creativity emanating from that city is invading galleries from Dumfries to the Orkneys. Crossing the Tay Bridge into Dundee, I found three artists recreating a pop-up Glasgow art bar they first made in 2010 called le Drapeau Noir (the Black Flag), decorated with their own works and set alight by readings from the likes of Glasgow novelist Alasdair Gray and, inevitably, artists' indie bands. At Dundee Contemporary Art, the bar's founders Rob Churm, Raydale Dower and Tony Swain are exhibiting around a live stage decorated with their Black Flag-in-punk homage to the utopian art of the Russian revolution.
What is a Scottish contemporary artist? Well, you don't have to be Scottish for one thing. The sentimental myths of nationalism flounder under the cosmopolitan nature of art. Rob Churm, who makes swirling, enigmatic drawings, comes from Leighton Buzzard in Bedfordshire. After studying at Glasgow School of Art he stayed on (as many people do) to participate in Glasgow's art scene. As he told me, "It's better than Leighton Buzzard."What is a Scottish contemporary artist? Well, you don't have to be Scottish for one thing. The sentimental myths of nationalism flounder under the cosmopolitan nature of art. Rob Churm, who makes swirling, enigmatic drawings, comes from Leighton Buzzard in Bedfordshire. After studying at Glasgow School of Art he stayed on (as many people do) to participate in Glasgow's art scene. As he told me, "It's better than Leighton Buzzard."
Yet it may not be a coincidence that the Generation exhibition is taking place the year that Scotland decides if it will remain in the UK. Is it part of some nationalist feel-good factor? It certainly appears as if the Scottish cultural and political establishment is investing seriously in art as a major asset and tourist attraction. Will such massive exposure kill what is special about the country's art scene? Yet it may not be a coincidence that the Generation exhibition is taking place in the year that Scotland decides if it will remain in Britain. Is it part of some nationalist feelgood factor? It certainly appears as if the Scottish cultural and political establishment is investing seriously in art as a major asset and tourist attraction. Will such massive exposure kill what is special about the country's art scene?
The worst part of Generation is a chaotic exhibition at the National Galleries of Scotland, in Edinburgh, that comes close to smothering the energy of the art under a big wet tartan blanket of pompous official approval.The worst part of Generation is a chaotic exhibition at the National Galleries of Scotland, in Edinburgh, that comes close to smothering the energy of the art under a big wet tartan blanket of pompous official approval.
The stiff, square rooms of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art are not ideal for exhibiting anything, let alone installations. In this frigid setting, the weaknesses as well as strengths of current Scottish art become apparent. There is, in fact, a downside to a scene that is so mutually supportive, clubbable and warm: artists can congratulate one another on work that is actually quite ordinary. At its worst, Scotland today produces artists who always seem to stay at the level of a clever art school student – they're still doing a degree show. I find the fussy drawings of Charles Avery, the vaguely feminist, pseudo-minimalist sculpture of Claire Barclay, the talented but pointless paintings of Victoria Morton and the boring neomodernism of Toby Paterson to be some of the most overrated art being promoted anywhere in the British Isles. Even the Scottish contemporary art obsession with youth culture starts to pall, seeming trivial. What's the point of all these loving homages to Joy Division, or whoever?The stiff, square rooms of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art are not ideal for exhibiting anything, let alone installations. In this frigid setting, the weaknesses as well as strengths of current Scottish art become apparent. There is, in fact, a downside to a scene that is so mutually supportive, clubbable and warm: artists can congratulate one another on work that is actually quite ordinary. At its worst, Scotland today produces artists who always seem to stay at the level of a clever art school student – they're still doing a degree show. I find the fussy drawings of Charles Avery, the vaguely feminist, pseudo-minimalist sculpture of Claire Barclay, the talented but pointless paintings of Victoria Morton and the boring neomodernism of Toby Paterson to be some of the most overrated art being promoted anywhere in the British Isles. Even the Scottish contemporary art obsession with youth culture starts to pall, seeming trivial. What's the point of all these loving homages to Joy Division, or whoever?
At last, in the grand and beautiful National Gallery exhibition rooms on Edinburgh's Mound, a work of art refers to something beyond its immediate subculture. Christine Borland collected eyewitness descriptions of the Nazi "scientist" Josef Mengele from Holocaust survivors. She sent these descriptions of his reputedly handsome outward appearance to six sculptors, who made six heads of Mengele. They are, of course, each different. The installation, which meditates darkly on the nature of memory and the banality of evil, is deeply unsettling.At last, in the grand and beautiful National Gallery exhibition rooms on Edinburgh's Mound, a work of art refers to something beyond its immediate subculture. Christine Borland collected eyewitness descriptions of the Nazi "scientist" Josef Mengele from Holocaust survivors. She sent these descriptions of his reputedly handsome outward appearance to six sculptors, who made six heads of Mengele. They are, of course, each different. The installation, which meditates darkly on the nature of memory and the banality of evil, is deeply unsettling.
Now that's what I call powerful Scottish art. Borland's seriousness and interest in moral darkness has put her in the great tradition of Scottish writers such as James Hogg and Robert Louis Stevenson. They also ally her with Douglas Gordon who, 18 years after he "broke the ice" (as De Kooning said of Pollock) in 1996 for modern Scottish art by winning the Turner prize, has an awe-inspiring exhibit at Glasgow's GoMA.Now that's what I call powerful Scottish art. Borland's seriousness and interest in moral darkness has put her in the great tradition of Scottish writers such as James Hogg and Robert Louis Stevenson. They also ally her with Douglas Gordon who, 18 years after he "broke the ice" (as De Kooning said of Pollock) in 1996 for modern Scottish art by winning the Turner prize, has an awe-inspiring exhibit at Glasgow's GoMA.
It's fitting that you have to go not to pretty Edinburgh, but to severe and acrid Glasgow to see the best of Generation. The cities are like heaven and hell but, as William Blake pointed out long ago, hell braces. It's in Glasgow you can see a glass installation by Richard Wright at the Modern Institute that is so beautful it seems to be some kind of angelic intervention in the surrounding urban grime. And it's there you can be floored by the dark genius of Douglas Gordon. It's fitting that you have to go not to pretty Edinburgh but to severe and acrid Glasgow to see the best of Generation. The cities are like heaven and hell but, as William Blake pointed out long ago, hell braces. It's in Glasgow you can see a glass installation by Richard Wright at the Modern Institute that is so beautiful it seems to be some kind of angelic intervention in the surrounding urban grime. And it's there you can be floored by the dark genius of Douglas Gordon.
Gordon's art is all about the classic themes of doubles and duality that haunt Scottish gothic literature, from Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde to Hogg's Confessions of a Justified Sinner – two tales that merge in one of Gordon's most haunting videos. His installation in Glasgow screens all his videos on old TV monitors in a mesmerising constellation of uneasy images. On one screen, a shell-shocked soldier repeats the same compulsive action again and again; on another, a snake charmer in North Africa plays with cobras. And in wat might be his most disturbing video to date, a water garden that looks like Monet's turns out to have not lilies floating in it, but skulls. Gordon's art is all about the classic themes of doubles and duality that haunt Scottish gothic literature, from Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde to Hogg's Confessions of a Justified Sinner – two tales that merge in one of Gordon's most haunting videos. His installation in Glasgow screens all his videos on old TV monitors in a mesmerising constellation of uneasy images. On one screen, a shell-shocked soldier repeats the same compulsive action again and again; on another, a snake charmer in North Africa plays with cobras. And in what might be his most disturbing video to date, a water garden that looks like Monet's turns out to have not lilies floating in it but skulls.
This ceaseless flow of juxtaposed nightmares is a magnificently troubling window on the mind of Scotland's, and Britain's, most imaginative contemporary artist.This ceaseless flow of juxtaposed nightmares is a magnificently troubling window on the mind of Scotland's, and Britain's, most imaginative contemporary artist.
Scotland is obviously an enjoyable place to be an artist. You can play in three bands, teach at Glasgow School of Art and show your prints in a pub. Maybe that is, to quote the tattoo Ross Sinclair showed me on his back, "Real Life". But real art happens when the pubs have closed and someone with the serious mind of a Christine Borland or a Douglas Gordon looks into the bottom of a glass stained with terrible thoughts.Scotland is obviously an enjoyable place to be an artist. You can play in three bands, teach at Glasgow School of Art and show your prints in a pub. Maybe that is, to quote the tattoo Ross Sinclair showed me on his back, "Real Life". But real art happens when the pubs have closed and someone with the serious mind of a Christine Borland or a Douglas Gordon looks into the bottom of a glass stained with terrible thoughts.
• Generation: 25 Years of Contemporary Art in Scotland is at various venues until 29 November