.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
There is no Culture in Australia. Forced Fields - group exhibition. Conical Gallery Melbourn 2007
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| Pamphlet Front |
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| Pamphlet Back |
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| Vacuum cleaner would burn out after an hour, cool off then automatically start up |
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| Vacuum nozzle in the door handle of the Galleries temporarily installed hermetically sealed swing door |
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| Diagram Projection |
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| Projected Diagram |
Print Media News Articles on "The Beneficiary's Office". 23rd of October 2010. Domino News Paper.
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| 1st of November 2010 |
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| Whole page of spin |
Print Media News Articles on "The Beneficiary's Office". October 30, 2010. New Zealands "Listener" Magazine
A blow to the art
When an artist bites the hand that feeds it, does he deserve that public funding?
Paul Henry, meet your new fellow inmate in the public-opinion dogbox: performance artist Tao Wells. To further bedevil our sense of the balance between free speech and public decency, Wells has accepted public money to create an art installation in which he disparages working people, and exhorts them to ditch their jobs, live off the state and become minimalist consumers. Officials deemed it art for the 37-year-old long-term beneficiary to glorify the notion of slacking and bludging off one’s fellow citizens.Besides the offence this will cause the many New Zealanders who have lost jobs in this recession, and the majority of workers who struggle to manage on lower wages than their overseas counterparts in large measure because New Zealand has such a welfare burden, Wells’s installation raises two eternally combustible questions: what is art, and what art should the taxpayer fund?
The first is a genie long out of the bottle. Art is what anyone chooses to say it is. Take it or leave it. Talent, creativity and, as Wells clearly demonstrates, profundity of intellect, are no longer prerequisites for art. You may as well try to nail a jelly to the wall as try to define art nowadays. Indeed, if you nailed it to the wall of an art gallery, it might win critical acclaim.
The second question is hardly less ticklish. Great offence has been taken that Creative New Zealand saw fit to fund Wells up to $3500 to carry out what in most people’s estimation is less an artistic endeavour than an act of political advocacy. Like the infamous Piss Christ photograph and the Virgin in a Condom, this, even if you grant it the title art, seemed more calculated to annoy and hurt the audience than do any of the nobler things art can do: challenge, inform, transport, inspire.
Still, however strong and noble the artistic tradition for subversion of society’s norms may be, Wells’s effort was puerile. He has been, as art critic TJ McNamara puts it, biting down hard on the hand that feeds him for some time now.
There is no getting around the public sense of affront that anybody, be they artist or barbarian, should insist upon being kept by the taxpayer, and repay that beneficence by insulting those whose efforts pay their bills – let alone getting extra money to do so. Wells’ benefit was stopped when news of his art grant reached Work and Income officials. But actually, our policy framework is legally ambivalent about whether people who choose to be artists should be forced to do another job if they can’t make a living from their art.
The previous Government instituted an artists-on-the-dole system, which allowed artists to refuse other work and still keep their benefit. And although artists might disagree, the arts are well-supported publicly, with funding that was boosted considerably under Labour and not subject to cuts under National. Or not yet, anyway. British arts funding is being cut by 25% and, in a second blow, the BBC, a major patron of the arts in that country, faces a 16% funding cut.
Creative New Zealand must be left to make its decisions free from concerns about politics, but it does not exist in isolation from the current difficult economic climate in which the Government, businesses and householders are examining every dollar they spend. The most common questions of the day are “do we really need this?” and “is it value for money?” Tao Wells’s latest work falls short on both counts. The risk for CNZ if it continues to make similar funding choices is that soon taxpayers may not be asking the question of the artworks, but of CNZ itself.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Driver
Bachelor of Fine Arts Masters of Fine Arts
University of anti transformation
date stamped and titled, occupation
awake to run the steps
bomb strapped balance up the guts
you made me, you're broken
wages of fear
$13 on hour
moral support to model support
you are a model, I am a model
to re-press your packages wait forever
that's a cheese grater
on your arm
that's your flesh on our pizza
hold still,
lives of shelves no
no customers
no point in buying anything
the hungers fake
production collapses the empty theater
into a airless surface
to coat the lungs of the chil who tears one
for a splif, todays main meal
Model doesn't have opinion
model just wears the clothes
and is shot bleeding life
from it's individual accomplishment
into the trough of capital accumulation.
thanks, you'r already boring
how you are how you live
has no worth, means nothing, has no value
you will deliver the product or you do not get paid
we tell you what to wear, what to saay and how to say it
you drive the delivery
10/16/11
University of anti transformation
date stamped and titled, occupation
awake to run the steps
bomb strapped balance up the guts
you made me, you're broken
wages of fear
$13 on hour
moral support to model support
you are a model, I am a model
to re-press your packages wait forever
that's a cheese grater
on your arm
that's your flesh on our pizza
hold still,
lives of shelves no
no customers
no point in buying anything
the hungers fake
production collapses the empty theater
into a airless surface
to coat the lungs of the chil who tears one
for a splif, todays main meal
Model doesn't have opinion
model just wears the clothes
and is shot bleeding life
from it's individual accomplishment
into the trough of capital accumulation.
thanks, you'r already boring
how you are how you live
has no worth, means nothing, has no value
you will deliver the product or you do not get paid
we tell you what to wear, what to saay and how to say it
you drive the delivery
10/16/11
Aboriginal Art, White Mans Prison Trinkets
Responsibility
inherent with
private property
Demonstrated by
ownership
right, right, right, right, -left
capitalism, capitalism, capitalism, capitalism = Socialism
A Minor History
of Compassion.
Impassioned speeches
of hope in the
midst of complete
Defeat.
How to make money
with art work.
inherent with
private property
Demonstrated by
ownership
right, right, right, right, -left
capitalism, capitalism, capitalism, capitalism = Socialism
A Minor History
of Compassion.
Impassioned speeches
of hope in the
midst of complete
Defeat.
How to make money
with art work.
While using her we give her pleasure
the feminist hole
the quicker he comes the sooner we're free, the longer we dont cum the longer the pleasure we are paying for lasts
Old Man splattered
watching the cum of some young man
spasm ejected from the tip of the cock, lying
soft prick against the nights sky, pink tip, purple,
erected against the night skys
eyes, a tent of culture,
the beast is invited in
to set the example, model behavior
to denigh it's nature and behave, or be nature
and punish, try staging the thought, that
the beast charges against the order of your house, not the house,
charges are laid against the way in which you keep house, you are in denial
your beast hates you,
what if the second you meet deaths true nature as a child you form an alchemical crystallization of your life in all it's intricate desires paths and developments, as in that moment you experience all of your life simultaneously as an instant that then is played out over linear time. A conceived Homeric journey or a Freudian fixed myth. This moment of meeting death, and seeing all of your life, is a moment glossed over by culture and any other individual... we are taught to not know.. to forget, to live in ignorance, as if freedom was a chain that you attach yourself.
I like to get fucked in the arse, just out of the shear pleasure
of doing some thing different, to break up the settling into monotony
to throw a spanner into the works
that brings back my attention
brings back my fine tuning
into the others
peoples psyche
screaming and howling
under the influence of touch
the night i fell for a slut
was when she licked my arse hole
something i didnt want my wife to have to do, and given that she was not inclined
the slut with her more aggresive sexuality, licked my arse hole in the course of normal things, her maculine feminity, in that she possessed what men find extremely attractive but in a female body, in a female decesion of touch, this focus on pleasure and all it's boundless decesions of endless boundaries.. the deliberate leadership inspired my to fuck the slut hard and with a caring of a sports men
doing awesome for his team, king or country.. I was in court fucking the pantry, the treausry or what ever bounty was in need of picking, harvesting... missery, happiness alike... amazing
she took two dicks last night, next time it will be a hell of a lot more...
were going to fuck her into a coma than back up again, out into counsciousness then back out again... for a whilt, till she tells us to stop, or we can tell she was us to stop.
and everythign i do makes her harder, wetter, and my dick harder and wetter
10/23/11
the quicker he comes the sooner we're free, the longer we dont cum the longer the pleasure we are paying for lasts
Old Man splattered
watching the cum of some young man
spasm ejected from the tip of the cock, lying
soft prick against the nights sky, pink tip, purple,
erected against the night skys
eyes, a tent of culture,
the beast is invited in
to set the example, model behavior
to denigh it's nature and behave, or be nature
and punish, try staging the thought, that
the beast charges against the order of your house, not the house,
charges are laid against the way in which you keep house, you are in denial
your beast hates you,
what if the second you meet deaths true nature as a child you form an alchemical crystallization of your life in all it's intricate desires paths and developments, as in that moment you experience all of your life simultaneously as an instant that then is played out over linear time. A conceived Homeric journey or a Freudian fixed myth. This moment of meeting death, and seeing all of your life, is a moment glossed over by culture and any other individual... we are taught to not know.. to forget, to live in ignorance, as if freedom was a chain that you attach yourself.
I like to get fucked in the arse, just out of the shear pleasure
of doing some thing different, to break up the settling into monotony
to throw a spanner into the works
that brings back my attention
brings back my fine tuning
into the others
peoples psyche
screaming and howling
under the influence of touch
the night i fell for a slut
was when she licked my arse hole
something i didnt want my wife to have to do, and given that she was not inclined
the slut with her more aggresive sexuality, licked my arse hole in the course of normal things, her maculine feminity, in that she possessed what men find extremely attractive but in a female body, in a female decesion of touch, this focus on pleasure and all it's boundless decesions of endless boundaries.. the deliberate leadership inspired my to fuck the slut hard and with a caring of a sports men
doing awesome for his team, king or country.. I was in court fucking the pantry, the treausry or what ever bounty was in need of picking, harvesting... missery, happiness alike... amazing
she took two dicks last night, next time it will be a hell of a lot more...
were going to fuck her into a coma than back up again, out into counsciousness then back out again... for a whilt, till she tells us to stop, or we can tell she was us to stop.
and everythign i do makes her harder, wetter, and my dick harder and wetter
10/23/11
two Trees
We speak at a church,
the outside night air, is holy
try walking away from the night sky
yeah , youve entered the church now
there's only preachin
whose the god lord, who'se it gonna be
you praticing your voodoo on me
and I practicing the higher callling
on you, I sell to you later, and you profit now from callin gme a fer, but soon, you'll collapse in to my arms exhausted you ll see how my work
point sout the folooy of your ways,
though your ways pay for my work,
Two Trees
in the night stand above you calling to your dark thoughts
of possibilities, difficult to
scren out, as the darkness of the thoughtpenetrated the desire for another
insight into what is there... that glorious
darkness the one with a billion billion dark suns, pin prick of shivering
extasy down teh diamond crusted skin folicle, ice on the hair of a nipple, glistening
by the pale moon light,
all things bathed in silver
send me away,
11/4/11
the outside night air, is holy
try walking away from the night sky
yeah , youve entered the church now
there's only preachin
whose the god lord, who'se it gonna be
you praticing your voodoo on me
and I practicing the higher callling
on you, I sell to you later, and you profit now from callin gme a fer, but soon, you'll collapse in to my arms exhausted you ll see how my work
point sout the folooy of your ways,
though your ways pay for my work,
Two Trees
in the night stand above you calling to your dark thoughts
of possibilities, difficult to
scren out, as the darkness of the thoughtpenetrated the desire for another
insight into what is there... that glorious
darkness the one with a billion billion dark suns, pin prick of shivering
extasy down teh diamond crusted skin folicle, ice on the hair of a nipple, glistening
by the pale moon light,
all things bathed in silver
send me away,
11/4/11
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