For those in New York attending Advertising Week, Sara and I will be doing a talk on Thursday afternoon. Here’s the info if you’d like to join us:
Chasing Inspiration: The Vidal Partnership brings you Wooster Collective
Thursday, September 24
2:00 – 2:45 pm
Time Center Hall
220 W. 52nd Street
Daniel Edwards (American sculptor; Born: La Porte, Indiana, 1965) is artistically a man I can relate to, he courts controversy, in fact he welcomes it with open arms. His sculptures include everything from a breastfeeding Angelina Jolie, to an Oprah Winfrey sarcophagus to the alleged poop of Suri Cruise and even an autopsy of Paris Hilton accompanied by her pet Chihuahua Tinkerbell. His work is designed to shock the world, or at least those on the planet who have the slightest interest in celebrity, yet to me there’s nothing this sculptor could create that would truly offend and here’s why.
It’s been a long unspoken and unwritten rule that all celebrities are fair game, they haven’t made their name through the discovery of a cure for cancer, they can’t invent a revolutionary clean alternative for energy production, they won’t for the main part, create, write, or even envision anything that will better mankind. They are in a highly privileged position, some have a modicum of talent in their chosen field, however without the constant support of a legion of media savvy beasts who know how to play everything from the public perception game to the markets, they would, in all honesty, be nothing at all. No one would care what Paris Hilton did if she wasn’t rich, or rather insanely rich, she’d just be another white trash wannabe desperate for attention. It’s death that fascinates the public, the seething undercurrent of muted revolutionary zeal that each of us live with each day that fills the pockets of gossip magazine publishers and TV producers, we pay for the media circus to juggle fire, tease performing lions and fly the trapeze, because deep down we want to see them fail.
If you’re not in the industry, the fame game, the gossip mongering industry, you should be shaking your head by now. That’s what Daniel Edwards wants, he wants controversy, its how anybody who’d not in the limelight enters the limelight, by association. The greatest artists in history have been for the main part relatively unknown, died in comparable poverty, with little more than a smattering of begrudging respect for their art. Then the many headed beast of the media discovered the wonders of syndication, television, Hollywood, the Internet, even, it’s sad to say Twitter. The public love a story, a background story even more so, so they’re famous, whoever they maybe for whatever reason, but what do they look like naked, do they have a drug problem, how can the average Schmo take a pot-shot at the exalted from the comfort of their own home? The media builds celebrity and destroys it with the same amount of fervour and glee that a child will create and destroy a sandcastle in an oncoming tide, it is inevitable.
Artists, the movers and shakers of the media, political names and faces, and celebrities from every medium all suffer, to different degrees depending on the individual in question, from the same God complex. To be at the top of the heap, even if it’s for the dubious accolade of questioning the propriety of that same pile of broken achievers, one will soon find oneself immersed and enmeshed in a quagmire of fame, and for the few, wealth and power beyond their imagination. That of course is a fallacy, there are no limits to the imagination, or greed, or lust, it just depends how much those in such a position can experience before the maternal and paternal instincts of the mass intervene and chastise, whilst those with less mainstream agendas hang on for the ride, either to waylay the impending disaster, or encourage the acceleration of the event.
If celebrity is an outcome of the American Dream, then the dark recesses of the mind of the media and more traditionally the subversive arts protagonist reflect the reality, the antithesis of blind hope, the practical facts as presented by the most objective of subjective views. A nobody can choose to admire and even acquire a somebody, by associated paraphernalia, they can adopt a false position of extenuated emotional relativity. The truth is more and more us, those still able to call themselves individuals, corporate slaves or not, wealthy or poor, educated by academia or the street, we choose to deconstruct our idols, and in the case of Daniel Edwards, kill them.
Well rather immortalise them before their time, freeze frame their peak of fame and notoriety and assign it to the history books, or rather the celebrity magazine archive, before the famous decline from their peak of media frenzied adulation and/or derision. Two underlying and concurrent themes in Edward’s work are a comment on the nature of fame and the ability of art to dismantle the false space created by the mechanism of popularity. The famous in their own contemporary fashion exalted in much the same way one would expect of saints and prophets, warrior kings and queens, and both noble and ignoble emperors of the past.
Edwards includes the idea of promotion and associative fame in his own marketing of his art, indeed he veritably takes glee in mocking the media with press releases designed to grab the attention of the search engine giant Google by providing evocative and shocking titles, formulating articles with the intent of engaging in keyword positioning and frequency so as to provide maximum exposure for his sculptures via the Internet.
Celebrity forms its own cage around the subject, no matter the reason or circumstances for their socially elevated existence, despite the vast wealth and advantages afforded to the most successful self-promoters in this arena, these offerings, these privileges of the few do not free them from the onerous duties of their position in the world. To be better, to be greater, to be perfect, to be god like. Earth, or rather the planet named earth by a hive of insect-like minded creatures called humans, will feed the queen bee until that purpose is served, but destroy and salvage its constituent parts, its carcass for the common good, as soon as it breathes its last breath. We the people of no clear belief, no sure direction, are reduced to the worship of the inane, artists like Daniel Edwards, and even myself to a small degree, champion the dismantling of this entropic system of adulation, adulation that can be converted to currency, currency which was designed to be nothing more than a note of entitlement to barter for goods, not dreams, not lies, not to cradle a generation of superfluous PR deities with little to offer other than quick and formulated answers to benign and disinterested mental, spiritual, physical and emotional questions of existence.
The famous die, so will their fame, yet fame it self powers the engines of commerce without substance, guiding the most basic instincts of mankind to repeat his mistakes until time immemorial.
http://www.caplakesting.com/danedwards/index.htm
Tags: Angelina Jolie, Brangelina, Britney, Celebrity, Daniel Edwards, fame, Oprah, sculpture
Daniel Edwards (American sculptor; Born: La Porte, Indiana, 1965) is artistically a man I can relate to, he courts controversy, in fact he welcomes it with open arms. His sculptures include everything from a breastfeeding Angelina Jolie, to an Oprah Winfrey sarcophagus to the alleged poop of Suri Cruise and even an autopsy of Paris Hilton accompanied by her pet Chihuahua Tinkerbell. His work is designed to shock the world, or at least those on the planet who have the slightest interest in celebrity, yet to me there’s nothing this sculptor could create that would truly offend and here’s why.
It’s been a long unspoken and unwritten rule that all celebrities are fair game, they haven’t made their name through the discovery of a cure for cancer, they can’t invent a revolutionary clean alternative for energy production, they won’t for the main part, create, write, or even envision anything that will better mankind. They are in a highly privileged position, some have a modicum of talent in their chosen field, however without the constant support of a legion of media savvy beasts who know how to play everything from the public perception game to the markets, they would, in all honesty, be nothing at all. No one would care what Paris Hilton did if she wasn’t rich, or rather insanely rich, she’d just be another white trash wannabe desperate for attention. It’s death that fascinates the public, the seething undercurrent of muted revolutionary zeal that each of us live with each day that fills the pockets of gossip magazine publishers and TV producers, we pay for the media circus to juggle fire, tease performing lions and fly the trapeze, because deep down we want to see them fail.
If you’re not in the industry, the fame game, the gossip mongering industry, you should be shaking your head by now. That’s what Daniel Edwards wants, he wants controversy, its how anybody who’d not in the limelight enters the limelight, by association. The greatest artists in history have been for the main part relatively unknown, died in comparable poverty, with little more than a smattering of begrudging respect for their art. Then the many headed beast of the media discovered the wonders of syndication, television, Hollywood, the Internet, even, it’s sad to say Twitter. The public love a story, a background story even more so, so they’re famous, whoever they maybe for whatever reason, but what do they look like naked, do they have a drug problem, how can the average Schmo take a pot-shot at the exalted from the comfort of their own home? The media builds celebrity and destroys it with the same amount of fervour and glee that a child will create and destroy a sandcastle in an oncoming tide, it is inevitable.
Artists, the movers and shakers of the media, political names and faces, and celebrities from every medium all suffer, to different degrees depending on the individual in question, from the same God complex. To be at the top of the heap, even if it’s for the dubious accolade of questioning the propriety of that same pile of broken achievers, one will soon find oneself immersed and enmeshed in a quagmire of fame, and for the few, wealth and power beyond their imagination. That of course is a fallacy, there are no limits to the imagination, or greed, or lust, it just depends how much those in such a position can experience before the maternal and paternal instincts of the mass intervene and chastise, whilst those with less mainstream agendas hang on for the ride, either to waylay the impending disaster, or encourage the acceleration of the event.
If celebrity is an outcome of the American Dream, then the dark recesses of the mind of the media and more traditionally the subversive arts protagonist reflect the reality, the antithesis of blind hope, the practical facts as presented by the most objective of subjective views. A nobody can choose to admire and even acquire a somebody, by associated paraphernalia, they can adopt a false position of extenuated emotional relativity. The truth is more and more us, those still able to call themselves individuals, corporate slaves or not, wealthy or poor, educated by academia or the street, we choose to deconstruct our idols, and in the case of Daniel Edwards, kill them.
Well rather immortalise them before their time, freeze frame their peak of fame and notoriety and assign it to the history books, or rather the celebrity magazine archive, before the famous decline from their peak of media frenzied adulation and/or derision. Two underlying and concurrent themes in Edward’s work are a comment on the nature of fame and the ability of art to dismantle the false space created by the mechanism of popularity. The famous in their own contemporary fashion exalted in much the same way one would expect of saints and prophets, warrior kings and queens, and both noble and ignoble emperors of the past.
Edwards includes the idea of promotion and associative fame in his own marketing of his art, indeed he veritably takes glee in mocking the media with press releases designed to grab the attention of the search engine giant Google by providing evocative and shocking titles, formulating articles with the intent of engaging in keyword positioning and frequency so as to provide maximum exposure for his sculptures via the Internet.
Celebrity forms its own cage around the subject, no matter the reason or circumstances for their socially elevated existence, despite the vast wealth and advantages afforded to the most successful self-promoters in this arena, these offerings, these privileges of the few do not free them from the onerous duties of their position in the world. To be better, to be greater, to be perfect, to be god like. Earth, or rather the planet named earth by a hive of insect-like minded creatures called humans, will feed the queen bee until that purpose is served, but destroy and salvage its constituent parts, its carcass for the common good, as soon as it breathes its last breath. We the people of no clear belief, no sure direction, are reduced to the worship of the inane, artists like Daniel Edwards, and even myself to a small degree, champion the dismantling of this entropic system of adulation, adulation that can be converted to currency, currency which was designed to be nothing more than a note of entitlement to barter for goods, not dreams, not lies, not to cradle a generation of superfluous PR deities with little to offer other than quick and formulated answers to benign and disinterested mental, spiritual, physical and emotional questions of existence.
The famous die, so will their fame, yet fame it self powers the engines of commerce without substance, guiding the most basic instincts of mankind to repeat his mistakes until time immemorial.
http://www.caplakesting.com/danedwards/index.htm
Tags: Angelina Jolie, Brangelina, Britney, Celebrity, Daniel Edwards, fame, Oprah, sculpture
Daniel Edwards (American sculptor; Born: La Porte, Indiana, 1965) is artistically a man I can relate to, he courts controversy, in fact he welcomes it with open arms. His sculptures include everything from a breastfeeding Angelina Jolie, to an Oprah Winfrey sarcophagus to the alleged poop of Suri Cruise and even an autopsy of Paris Hilton accompanied by her pet Chihuahua Tinkerbell. His work is designed to shock the world, or at least those on the planet who have the slightest interest in celebrity, yet to me there’s nothing this sculptor could create that would truly offend and here’s why.
It’s been a long unspoken and unwritten rule that all celebrities are fair game, they haven’t made their name through the discovery of a cure for cancer, they can’t invent a revolutionary clean alternative for energy production, they won’t for the main part, create, write, or even envision anything that will better mankind. They are in a highly privileged position, some have a modicum of talent in their chosen field, however without the constant support of a legion of media savvy beasts who know how to play everything from the public perception game to the markets, they would, in all honesty, be nothing at all. No one would care what Paris Hilton did if she wasn’t rich, or rather insanely rich, she’d just be another white trash wannabe desperate for attention. It’s death that fascinates the public, the seething undercurrent of muted revolutionary zeal that each of us live with each day that fills the pockets of gossip magazine publishers and TV producers, we pay for the media circus to juggle fire, tease performing lions and fly the trapeze, because deep down we want to see them fail.
If you’re not in the industry, the fame game, the gossip mongering industry, you should be shaking your head by now. That’s what Daniel Edwards wants, he wants controversy, its how anybody who’d not in the limelight enters the limelight, by association. The greatest artists in history have been for the main part relatively unknown, died in comparable poverty, with little more than a smattering of begrudging respect for their art. Then the many headed beast of the media discovered the wonders of syndication, television, Hollywood, the Internet, even, it’s sad to say Twitter. The public love a story, a background story even more so, so they’re famous, whoever they maybe for whatever reason, but what do they look like naked, do they have a drug problem, how can the average Schmo take a pot-shot at the exalted from the comfort of their own home? The media builds celebrity and destroys it with the same amount of fervour and glee that a child will create and destroy a sandcastle in an oncoming tide, it is inevitable.
Artists, the movers and shakers of the media, political names and faces, and celebrities from every medium all suffer, to different degrees depending on the individual in question, from the same God complex. To be at the top of the heap, even if it’s for the dubious accolade of questioning the propriety of that same pile of broken achievers, one will soon find oneself immersed and enmeshed in a quagmire of fame, and for the few, wealth and power beyond their imagination. That of course is a fallacy, there are no limits to the imagination, or greed, or lust, it just depends how much those in such a position can experience before the maternal and paternal instincts of the mass intervene and chastise, whilst those with less mainstream agendas hang on for the ride, either to waylay the impending disaster, or encourage the acceleration of the event.
If celebrity is an outcome of the American Dream, then the dark recesses of the mind of the media and more traditionally the subversive arts protagonist reflect the reality, the antithesis of blind hope, the practical facts as presented by the most objective of subjective views. A nobody can choose to admire and even acquire a somebody, by associated paraphernalia, they can adopt a false position of extenuated emotional relativity. The truth is more and more us, those still able to call themselves individuals, corporate slaves or not, wealthy or poor, educated by academia or the street, we choose to deconstruct our idols, and in the case of Daniel Edwards, kill them.
Well rather immortalise them before their time, freeze frame their peak of fame and notoriety and assign it to the history books, or rather the celebrity magazine archive, before the famous decline from their peak of media frenzied adulation and/or derision. Two underlying and concurrent themes in Edward’s work are a comment on the nature of fame and the ability of art to dismantle the false space created by the mechanism of popularity. The famous in their own contemporary fashion exalted in much the same way one would expect of saints and prophets, warrior kings and queens, and both noble and ignoble emperors of the past.
Edwards includes the idea of promotion and associative fame in his own marketing of his art, indeed he veritably takes glee in mocking the media with press releases designed to grab the attention of the search engine giant Google by providing evocative and shocking titles, formulating articles with the intent of engaging in keyword positioning and frequency so as to provide maximum exposure for his sculptures via the Internet.
Celebrity forms its own cage around the subject, no matter the reason or circumstances for their socially elevated existence, despite the vast wealth and advantages afforded to the most successful self-promoters in this arena, these offerings, these privileges of the few do not free them from the onerous duties of their position in the world. To be better, to be greater, to be perfect, to be god like. Earth, or rather the planet named earth by a hive of insect-like minded creatures called humans, will feed the queen bee until that purpose is served, but destroy and salvage its constituent parts, its carcass for the common good, as soon as it breathes its last breath. We the people of no clear belief, no sure direction, are reduced to the worship of the inane, artists like Daniel Edwards, and even myself to a small degree, champion the dismantling of this entropic system of adulation, adulation that can be converted to currency, currency which was designed to be nothing more than a note of entitlement to barter for goods, not dreams, not lies, not to cradle a generation of superfluous PR deities with little to offer other than quick and formulated answers to benign and disinterested mental, spiritual, physical and emotional questions of existence.
The famous die, so will their fame, yet fame it self powers the engines of commerce without substance, guiding the most basic instincts of mankind to repeat his mistakes until time immemorial.
http://www.caplakesting.com/danedwards/index.htm
Tags: Angelina Jolie, Brangelina, Britney, Celebrity, Daniel Edwards, fame, Oprah, sculpture
Fresh in from this weekend, a huge piece by 3rd Eye out on a house in Keynsham. Props to him for the photos, and Jonny Rench for sorting it out apparently. Nice work.
