dekersaint

2011-11-07T11:37:00.001Z

Eiffel Tower With Americans, colour photo, 2009

He Might be in a Accident, scanned found note, 2010

Martin Heidegger, Looking Surprised, scanned image, 2008

Woman with Glasses (after Martin Creed), digital image, 2008

2011-11-07T11:26:00.002Z

Power Cup, pen and pencil on paper, 2011

Pyramid, pen on paper, 2011

Feather Ball 2, pen on paper, 2011

Bad Alien Vibes, pencil on paper, 2008

Psychosis Drawings #21 (CULTURE), pen and tape on newsprint, 2009

Plugs, biro on paper, 2010

Power Cup

2011-10-24T17:04:00.002+01:00

Power Cup, pen and pencil on paper, 2011

Feather Ball 2

2011-10-14T16:33:00.001+01:00

Feather Ball 2, pen on paper, 2011

British Medical Association

2011-10-14T16:32:00.001+01:00

British Medical Association, pen and highlighter on paper, 2011

Sound Work for Film

2011-08-22T11:38:00.001+01:00

Sound recording and editing for Firedive by Tim Bowditch
-- Sound recording and editing for EXTRAMISSION by the ARKA group
-- Sound design for nähdä unta by Ben Jeans Houghton
-- Music for TSU by Ben Jeans Houghton
--

Pyramid

2011-08-04T10:48:00.000+01:00

Pyramid, pen on paper, 2011

The Politico Sexual History of Patrick Anthony Harrington

2011-06-14T12:47:00.000+01:00

The Politico Sexual History of Patrick Anthony Harrington

Installation with television and headphones (video 1), laptop and speakers (video 2), rubble, gaffa tape, bamboo canes, plastic sheeting

2011

Allegories

2011-06-14T12:38:00.001+01:00

Three sound sculptures relating to the recent history of Gdańsk, Poland.

Allegories: Democratic Elites
Mp3 player, headphones, rubble from the new European Centre for Solidarity, chair
2011

Allegories: Sobieszewska
Mp3 player, headphones, sand from the island of Sobieszewska, chair
2011

Allegories: The Young City
Mp3 player, headphones, poppies from the proposed site of a shopping mall, central to the the Young City development plans, chair
2011

Leprechaun's Denial

2011-03-08T20:39:00.003Z

To see the work, please click the link and follow the instructions

Leprechaun's Denial, html code, Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau, 2009

He Might be in a Accident

2011-03-08T20:32:00.002Z

He Might be in a Accident, scanned found note, 2010

Liverpool Fugue

2010-11-10T14:00:00.003Z

Liverpool Fugue, performance with slide show, 2010

Eiffel Tower With Americans

2010-10-27T23:35:00.000+01:00

Eiffel Tower With Americans, colour photo, 2009

Builder's Merchant

2010-10-22T00:00:00.003+01:00

I’ve been dreaming about it, or, it dreams me. A logo, three cylinders in a perpendicular projection. I’m not sure if this style of projection would ever be used for plans or designs. The front of the cylinders are circular and the lengths -the tubular parts of the cylinder - stick straight out sideways. It looks strange. Flat and depthless. Sort of impotent.

One day I’m walking past a builder’s merchants on the outskirts of the town in which I live. Next to the builder’s merchants, positioned over the pavement, but really aimed at the cars, is the sign that welcomes you in to the town - the official edge of the town is marked by this sign, and I’m thinking that I must have walked past this sign a lot, but not an incredible amount of times. Not like the amount of times that I’ve walked past, say, the road sign for the road that I live on. So maybe, one thousand times? A lot, building up over the years. But not regularly, but still a lot. Seven hundred to one thousand times? I think this every time I pass the sign.
I look to my right, towards the builder’s merchants, and I see the logo that I’ve been dreaming about, though it is only looking at the sign that alerts me to the dreams, if you see what I mean. I mean I haven’t ever remembered dreaming the logo, but as soon as I see the logo I know that I have been dreaming it.

The projection of the cylinders is more ridiculous than I remember, though I cannot be sure that I remember it clearly, seeing as I’ve only just realised that I’ve been dreaming this logo, and I suppose this image could have supplanted the image that I can’t quite recall but know that I have dreamt. But then how would it be more ridiculous than how I remember it? No. I must remember it, because it certainly does look more ridiculous. Laughable.

No matter. It must be of some importance so I decide to go inside. I go through the yard, past piles of timber and parked fork lift trucks. I go to the office and look inside. No one is around to speak to. I would ask them about the logo, who designed it maybe, or what it is meant to be. Probably just cement tubes, or scaffolding. The cylinders are too thick (in the logo) for them to be scaffolding. In one of the covered sheds (for really, a lot of the merchants is just covered sheds, full of wood and metal and polystyrene sheeting and plastics) I can see some men talking, and I can vaguely hear a radio playing a song I can’t make out. I decide against approaching them. I look around to see if the logo is anywhere else in the builder’s merchants. It is not. It is only on the sign outside, next to the gate.

The whole idea of entering the builder’s merchants starts to feel pointless, there was never going to be anything of interest in here. I leave the yard and don’t even stop to look at the logo. I walk past here a lot. Not regularly, but a lot. I’ll come back another day.

Plugs 2

2010-10-19T16:43:00.000+01:00

Plugs 2, biro on paper, 2010

Pineapple Chunks and Shoe Polish

2010-10-11T16:33:00.001+01:00

I buy tinned pineapple chunks, and then I paint them black. Normally with shoe polish. Then, once the pineapple chunks are dry (which doesn't take as long as you'd think, as long as you follow the instructions on the polish i.e. dry the chunks before painting, in an airing cupboard or on a south facing windowsill, removed from juice), I put them back in the tin (sans-juice), reseal the tin and take them back to the shop.

I won't buy the shoe polish and the pineapple chunks in the same shop. No reason, really, but I do like to use new shoe polish each time, and it's best not to give them any way to establish a causal connection.

Once they are back on the shelf (it is actually quite easy to tell a resealed tin from a factory sealed tin, even though my equipment is catering grade) I tend to loiter around the tinned fruit section for a while, reposition my tin at the front of the stack, label first. I take a picture on my mobile phone, then email a copy to myself and erase the original photo. If no one has picked up my tin within the first half an hour, then I have to leave. I've established the amount of time you can stand in one section of a supermarket without the security starting to get suspicious; half an hour is definitely the upper limit. Normally, I'll take a walk around town, and pop in on my way back, just to check that it is still there. Often, if I've positioned it well, it will be gone. If so, I can go home and make a note of it on my Excel document. If it isn't, then I will return the next day, and on consecutive days, but only to check. I can loiter for half an hour, without the instantaneous appearance of a security guard, about every one and a half weeks (because of shift patterns, and security hand-over briefings and possible print outs from CCTV cameras of certain persons faces, and available space for said print outs on the security guard notice board in the little office with all the televisions).

I have only had a confirmed hit i.e. a viewed (by me) purchase, twice in the time that I have been doing this properly i.e. not just for a laugh, but seriously, with the spreadsheet and distribution pattern. Fairly early on, once in Morrison's and once in Waitrose. In Morrison's I found the resealed tin and stood there for two or three minutes max before someone came along and put it in their basket. I followed them to the tills, picked up some chewing gum and a copy of Take a Break (for Denise, but also by accident, and also because it had Tamzin Outhwaite on the cover, and I like Tamzin Outhwaite, always have.), and watched them pack the tin in to their bags. There was a problem at the tills once the lady had left, with the tin, and I had to wait for the girl behind the till so I didn't manage to follow the lady out of the shop. Once I had got to the exit, she had gone. Probably on the bus, or in a taxi. A lot of the poorer people get taxis from Morrison's, which I always find fascinating.

The other time, as I mentioned, was at Waitrose. I had loitered for my half an hour on the first day, come back for three days in a row for a check, and on the fourth day I arrived at the tinned fruit section (quite small in Waitrose) and thought the tin had gone. I moved a few tins around to look for mine (often it can be shuffled to the back by an overzealous assistant, rotating stock by sell by date) but it wasn't there. I looked down, and clocked the tin (the resealing is really quite obvious, if you know what you are looking for, but obviously, most people are looking at one tin at a time, and even if they are not, shop workers are either not bothered if they notice, or can't be bothered with the hassle of trying to remove stock from the shop floor and pointing out what is - once you take it up to middle management - quite an insignificant aesthetic problem) in the near empty basket of a man, about my height and build. He walked towards the checkout and I followed discreetly from behind. At the tills, I picked up some chewing gum and a paper (no Take a Breaks in Waitrose, well, not by the tills anyway) and put down a little plastic separator, to separate his shopping from my incidental purchases. I allowed myself a quick look at his face. He was looking about the shop, glancing at other customers and trying not to smile. I looked back down at the conveyor belt and saw three tins of pineapple chunks and a small round tin of black shoe polish.

Disruptive Histories: The International Garden Festival

2010-09-27T20:59:00.002+01:00

Disruptive Histories: The International Garden Festival, collaboration with Penny Whitehead and Daniel Simpkins, digital video, 2010

Disruptive Histories: Tatlin Tower

2010-09-27T17:15:00.002+01:00

Disruptive Histories: Tatlin Tower, collaboration with Penny Whitehead and Daniel Simpkins, digital video, 2010

The Sadness of Mark Speight

2010-09-19T21:48:00.002+01:00

The Sadness of Mark Speight, digital video, 2010

Possible Monuments at the Lombard Method

2010-06-09T17:07:00.000+01:00

Possible Monuments
installation of 8 drawings, 3 maquettes, and a video installation, 2010.

Monument to the Travellers who Stole a Henry Moore Sculpture and Melted it Down and Sold it for Scrap (after Henry Moore)

2010-06-09T17:06:00.001+01:00

Monument to the Travellers who Stole a Henry Moore Sculpture and Melted it Down and Sold it for Scrap (after Henry Moore),
biro and felt tip on paper, 2010.

The Burning Pile of Shit

2010-06-09T17:04:00.000+01:00

The Burning Pile of Shit, watercolour and pen on paper, 2010.

(detail)

A Project to Preserve and Glorify our Urban Trees

2010-06-09T17:03:00.000+01:00

A Project to Preserve and Glorify our Urban Trees,
biro and coloured pencil on paper, 2010.

Public Monument to the Apology of the Birmingham Mail to the Esteemed Ramesh Chauhan

2010-06-09T17:02:00.000+01:00

Public Monument to the Apology of the Birmingham Mail to the Esteemed Ramesh Chauhan,
coloured pen and biro on paper, 2010.

(A Seal Killing) Tribute to John Shepherd-Barron and his Invention of the Cash Machine

2010-06-09T17:00:00.000+01:00

(A Seal Killing) Tribute to John Shepherd-Barron and his Invention of the Cash Machine,
coloured pencil, pen and gaffa tape on paper, 2010.

Monument to the Varied Failings of our Public Transport System

2010-06-09T16:57:00.001+01:00

Monument to the Varied Failings of our Public Transport System,
watercolour and pen on paper, cardboard maquette, 2010

(details)

Monument to Sir Cliff Richard's Eternal Flame (pissing fire)

2010-06-09T16:54:00.000+01:00

Monument to Sir Cliff Richard's Eternal Flame (pissing fire), watercolour and pen on paper, 2010.

(detail)

A Musical Monument to Cliff Richard's Unborn Child and Also the Sacrifice of his Loyal Shadows

2010-06-09T16:52:00.001+01:00

A Musical Monument to Cliff Richard's Unborn Child and Also the Sacrifice of his Loyal Shadows,
watercolour and pen on paper, 2010.

(details)

A Musical Monument to Cliff Richard's Unborn Child and Also the Sacrifice of his Loyal Shadows (Maquette of Spinning Sir Cliff baby head),
wood, electronics and photograph, 2010.

This is Not a Public Right of Way

2010-06-01T19:27:00.007+01:00

This is Not a Public Right of Way, digital video, 2010.
Created as part of a residency at The Lombard Method, Birmingham.

The Sixties Was a Lie and You're a Fucking Liar

2010-04-09T11:25:00.003+01:00

The Sixties Was a Lie and You're a Fucking Liar, metal stool, cane, plastic straws and framed drawing, 2010

The God Machine (pissing)

2010-03-15T13:46:00.000Z

The God Machine (pissing), pencil, paint and googly eyes on paper, 2010

Truffaut

2010-02-08T15:47:00.004Z

Truffaut, digital video, 2009

Wayne's World

2010-02-08T14:27:00.002Z

Piss Trumpet

2010-02-08T14:26:00.000Z

Oh Sah Mah

2010-02-08T10:53:00.003Z

Oh Sah Mah, digital video, 2009

ARKA: Oneiros

2010-02-03T09:34:00.006Z

ARKA: Oneiros, 14min, digital version of installation (looped slide projection and sound), 2010
A collaboration between Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau and Ben Jeans Houghton as part of the ongoing ARKA project.

Cyclic

2010-01-28T19:12:00.005Z

Cyclic, digital video, 2007
A collaboration between Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau and Ben Jeans Houghton

Psychosis Drawings #21 (CULTURE)

2010-01-11T18:47:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #21 (CULTURE), biro and tape on newsprint, 2009

Click here for more of the 'Psychosis Drawings' series

Protestant Cubescape

2009-12-21T12:18:00.000Z

Protestant Cubescape, chads on graph paper, 2009

2009-12-01T14:27:00.000Z

Uninformed Ideas for Sci-fi Novels in the Art World

Originally published in artartart: Art vs History, in January 2009.

I don’t read a lot of sci-fi. Probably because most of it is shit, but also because it doesn’t ever reference the art world. Being an artist and a writer, I only like to read about things that directly connect with my own tiny sphere of reality. Actually, I did read a load of JG Ballard short stories, but reading old sci-fi is like watching yesterday’s weather report.
I have jotted down a few ideas for some sci-fi stories. They aren’t very likely to get published, probably because I’ll never get round to writing them.

Sci-fi Story #1
A young man wakes up one day, realising that he can see 12 seconds in to the past. His life consists of replying to throw away conversation that has just been forgotten about. His unique ability to reference the recent past makes him an art star. He critiques all of human activity, 12 seconds after it happens.
The almost instantaneous ironization of everything in the whole world ever, makes people realize just how vacuous they are. Mass suicide ensues. The young man makes a triumphant final art work, by throwing himself from the rooftop of an artist led space in Kilburn, catching the mass suicide trend at it’s peak, 12 seconds after it has begun. Everyone realises that suicide isn’t even cool, and the art world is returned to normal.

Sci-fi Story #2
Anthony Gormley’s sculptures get so popular that they become a fixture in every single town and village in Great Britain. One day they become self-conscious and begin killing and eating humans (when they poo, a little clay sculpture of a person comes out). The main character, a speculative realist known only as J, realises that Gormley himself is controlling the actions of all the human-eating sculptures with some weird, ant-pheromone, mind control shit.
J goes to Gormley towers for an epic battle with the evil genius, whose feet are hooked up to a cheap-looking machine that sends his thoughts out to all the sculptures. J is surrounded by Gormley’s minions, and they are about to turn him into a initially badly received, but suddenly and inexplicably revered piece of public art. Out of nowhere, the Head of Newcastle Gateshead Cultural Partnership crashes through a window. He rips Gormley’s Birkenstocks from his feet, severing the mind connection between Gormley and his sculptures and just as J is about to be eaten, they lose their hideous powers and become inanimate once again.

Sci-fi Story #3
All the art critics die and like when bees become extinct, it turns out that without art criticism, food production comes to a halt. Farmers look out upon barren fields. Mothers look shamefully at their deflated teats as their babies cry for food. A man looks at an empty pot noodle, and then at his shrivelled, acorn like penis. It is, somehow, related.
With the ecology of the cultural sphere thrown out of kilter, the only seeming way to survive is to eat all the gallery assistants, who are living off the out of date sandwiches in the unused cafés of small galleries around the world. A wily assistant called Chloe is the only member of her visitor services team left. Using only two RGB projectors, an old slide carousel and a box of organic fruit left over from the curator’s office, she manages to re-establish the notion of subjective, authoritative experience. Art criticism is re-born, along with a new generation of informed, interesting art critics. The plants are pollinated, and crops are grown. Chloe is rewarded for saving the world, with an unpaid internship at a major contemporary space.

Sci-fi Story #5
The internet somehow gets turned off. Without the ability to google the spelling of words, look up obscure philosophical schools on Wikipedia, or access even the most basic of pornography, the art press falls apart. Without any reviewers going to openings, thousands of litres of cheap, warm red wine go to waste on fold out tables in galleries around the world. This booze-lake upsets the hydro-cycle and huge tsunamis are triggered around the world. Everyone dies, apart from a small band of artists, living in a commune in Vienna. They have to re-populate the world and there are some overwritten and quite grim sex scenes.

Sci-fi sex scenes are always weird. Also, I used to read loads of Stephen King when I was a kid and his sex scenes were really odd. I remember one guy being tugged off by someone with a sponge-glove. I still don’t think I really understand the concept of a sponge glove.

Sci-fi Story #6
A young artist working in a laboratory stumbles into a room containing top secret military equipment. He falls into a cupboard, which turns out to be a time machine. He appears in late 1950s New York, makes friends with Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock and Clement Greenberg and obtains a dependence on alcohol and morphine. He sleeps with loads of peoples’ wives, and occasionally beats up Greenberg. But that’s ok because Greenberg gets really annoying sometimes. Everyone smokes an incredible amount of cigarettes, but in a cool, 1950s way, not a modern, coping with psychosis way. The young artist realises that to get back to his own time, he must stop Rothko committing suicide and to do this he must make sure that Rothko’s wife never leaves him. The young artist realises that 2008 is shit and actually he prefers 1950s New York. Also he figures that he can just move away before Rothko kills himself in 1970 and avoid having to deal with that. Instead of making sure that Rothko’s wife never leaves him, the young artist just sleeps with her on and off for several years.

Evaluating and Moralising
Sci-fi is about the act of looking forward to bring a new perspective on the present. By looking forward I mean imagining the possible, rather than predicting a future reality. Often this means that when you read sci-fi, it is wildly optimistic about the possibilities of technology, or involves lots of people (women) wearing skin tight clothes. When sci-fi is really successful, it focuses on the reality of the people inhabiting a world so that any situation, no matter how unreal, is recognisable as our world.
Sci-fi constantly attempts to align itself to the future. Art is in a state of constant return to the recent past. It picks apart its own faecal matter in the gonzo-porn repetition of art market finality. With the art market on its arse, maybe that critical eye could be turned outwards and like sci-fi in reverse, could criticise the present to forge a possible future.

Postscript
Most people like to believe that they will witness the apocalypse. Once the reality of a total nihilism has been established, it is hard to see anything that happens in your life as important, apart from the possibility that the world will end while you are alive. My fantasy apocalypse involves our ability to record our existence catching up with our actions; a feedback loop of total simulation. This would historicize all action as it happens, causing human activity to come to a standstill. Our existence could be defined as two post-pubescent, wispily moustachioed men in flannel shirts, vomiting in to each others mouths, for eternity.

Psychosis Drawings #29 (MUM DAD)

2009-11-16T11:11:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #29 (MUM DAD), mixed materials on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #28 (HOMOSEXUALS)

2009-11-09T21:00:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #28 (HOMOSEXUALS), mixed materials on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #27 (NIQABIA)

2009-10-29T21:44:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #27 (NIQABIA), mixed materials on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #26 (ALIEN POPE)

2009-10-26T15:21:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #26 (ALIEN POPE), mixed materials on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #25 (NETWORKING)

2009-10-25T20:01:00.000Z

Psychosis Drawings #25 (NETWORKING), biro on newsprint, 2009

The Moon.

2009-10-24T18:32:00.000+01:00

The moon,
can fuck off.
I've no time,
for the moon.

Psychosis Drawings #24 (COVERAGE)

2009-10-20T16:30:00.000+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #24 (COVERAGE), biro on newsprint, 2009

Eyebrow Hairs

2009-10-07T17:46:00.004+01:00

Watch out for eyebrow hairs
floating in the bath.
Like small brown hairs
from one's eyebrows.

But wait!
Pube!

No.
My mistake.
Eyebrow hair.

The Guilt Exchange

2009-10-07T08:38:00.002+01:00

The Guilt Exchange, pen and pencil on paper, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #24 (GOOD STUFF)

2009-10-03T21:32:00.002+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #24 (GOOD STUFF), biro on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #23 (the vagina high boot, a bit fucking risqué)

2009-09-28T16:13:00.003+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #23 (the vagina high boot, a bit fucking risqué), biro and correction fluid on newsprint, 2009

MP3

2009-08-28T15:59:00.002+01:00

Heavy Talk - Available NOW from all good record shops, and from iTunes.

Cunt - from The Posture E.P, available on iTunes.

Islam

Set it on Fire

DISCOGRAPHY

2009-08-28T15:29:00.001+01:00

'Heavy Talk' by Dogtanion OUT NOW!!

///AVAILABLE IN ALL GOOD RECORD STORES, PHYSICAL OR ONLINE NOW!!///

AS 7" VINYL AND DIGITAL DOWNLOAD!!!

#TAPCLB010

Dogtanion: Heavy Talk
Mr James Bright: Shut up Shop

Tape Club's first vinyl, a split 7" single with Dogtanion's pure electro-ragga and Mr James Bright's smooth-layered future funk, design by the wonderful bonebookbang!

Single of the week in Drowned in Sound!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'The Posture E.P'
2008
Five Track E.P available on iTunes and CD.

Released by Kind Canyon

BIOGRAPHY

2009-08-28T15:25:00.002+01:00

Dogtanion makes music of the harmonic, dynamic and surprising variety. Having made bedroom electronica since the age of 17, Dogtanion has survived two Glastonbury festivals, a weird thing with his big toe, and a terminated record deal. Now sliding around on his socks between East London and Manchester, Dogtanion has hitched up with Tape Club Records and will be shaking his wiggle-tubes near you very soon.

PHOTOS

2009-08-28T15:24:00.002+01:00

Dogtanion and the Boy Faced Dog.

Dogtanion in full flow at the Slaughtered Lamb.
Photo by Laurent Simon.

MAILING LIST

2009-08-28T15:23:00.000+01:00

Join the mailing list and get exclusive mp3s, performance dates and Dogtanion based ephemera

To join the mailing list, just email mailinglist@dekersaint.co.uk with 'Dogtanion' in the subject line.

You can unsubscribe at any time by doing the same but with 'unsubscribe' in the subject line.

PERFORMANCES

2009-08-28T15:21:00.008+01:00

11 Apr 2010 20:00
MANCHESTER The Deaf Institute - HOMEMADE tour
12 Apr 2010 20:00
GUILDFORD Boileroom - HOMEMADE tour
13 Apr 2010 20:00
WINCHESTER The Railway - HOMEMADE tour
14 Apr 2010 20:00
LONDON The Slaughtered Lamb - HOMEMADE tour
15 Apr 2010 20:00
BRIGHTON The Freebutt - HOMEMADE tour
18 Apr 2010 20:00
NORWICH St Gregory’s Centre - HOMEMADE tour
22 Apr 2010 20:00
LONDON Monkey Chews - HOMEMADE tour

Psychosis Drawings #22 (PORTRAIT)

2009-05-26T08:48:00.002+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #22 (PORTRAIT), biro and correction fluid on newsprint, 2009

Plugs

2009-04-17T17:38:00.000+01:00

Plugs, biro and pencil on lined paper, 2009

Dogtanion

2009-04-15T23:06:00.063+01:00

DOWNLOAD 'IN ME' BY DOGTANION FROM DUMMY.

VISIT THE TAPE CLUB REORDS WEBSITE FOR INFO

VISIT THE FACEBOOK PAGE FOR GIGS AND SONGS AND PHOTOS

Some Cunt in New York

2009-04-10T19:23:00.002+01:00

Some Cunt in New York, facebook report, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #20 (the priests were not averse to performing for us)

2009-04-10T18:08:00.004+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #20 (the priests were not averse to performing for us), pen on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #19 (when he returned later that evening, he was changed)

2009-04-10T18:07:00.004+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #19 (when he returned later that evening, he was changed), pen on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #18 (the original etching, from the hand of a local man)

2009-04-06T14:13:00.005+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #18 (the original etching, from the hand of a local man), pen on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #17 (small icon, origin unknown)

2009-04-06T14:12:00.005+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #17 (small icon, origin unknown), pen on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #16 (the animals would radiate a strange aura)

2009-04-06T14:11:00.004+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #16 (the animals would radiate a strange aura), pen on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #15 (a commonly described vision among the older women of the group)

2009-04-03T16:34:00.003+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #15 (a commonly described vision among the older women of the group), biro on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #14 (small icon worn by a footsman in the fourth war)

2009-04-03T16:32:00.003+01:00

Psychosis Drawings #14 (small icon worn by a footsman in the fourth war), pen on newsprint, 2009

SPAM Heap Challenge update

2009-03-26T16:57:00.000Z

In a strange moment for both me and (I'm assuming) SPAM, 'Burying 500 cans of SPAM®, in a four foot by four foot hole, in Highwoods Country Park in Colchester', mixed media, 2009, was a finalist in the SPAM Heap challenge, for which the sculpture was made.

2009-03-23T11:44:00.045Z

Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau is an artist, writer and musician working in Manchester and London.

You can contact him at matt@dekersaint.co.uk
He writes a blog about art and ideas called ashortdescriptionofmypoo
He is part of the ARKA group, a fluid collective of artists and writers, making work that explores the oneiric possibilities of scientific and philosophical thought.
You can hear his music at facebook.com/dogtanion
And you can follow his tweetings at twitter.com/dogtanionmusic

NEWS

The ARKA group's new film The Ocelli will be screened at the BFI in January as part of the Ideas Fund Shorts presentation.
Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau has a solo exhibition at Cafe Ort in Birmingham, from 25th January 2012
Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau is working with the writer Colin Dilnot on a programme of events for Dialogues a future project at The Royal Standard in Liverpool.

S W I T Z E R L A N D, an e.p. by Dogtanion, is available to download for free here.

Psychosis Drawings #13 (conspiracy under a clear sky)

2009-03-23T11:43:00.003Z

Psychosis Drawings #13 (conspiracy under a clear sky), biro on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #12 (they sensed his decay)

2009-03-17T10:50:00.002Z

Psychosis Drawings #12 (they sensed his decay), biro on newsprint, 2009

Ideas for a Thriller to Write When I am a Middle Aged Accounts Manager

2009-03-11T16:46:00.001Z

I'm a human rights lawyer. Or a journalist. Or a human rights journalist. I was married to a diplomat. Or a politician, but a good one. And she was beautiful. But she died. Was killed. No, died.

No she was in a car crash.

Anyway, so she has some office, or a computer that I never go on. In a shared office. Actually, we both have our own offices because she is so messy. Actually, I'm messy, but that's just how I have to work. I smoke and drink too much coffee and I like whiskey. This is all incidental.
I find out, from this office, or her computer in the shared office that she was having an affair. A series of letters, or emails. Or printed out emails. She was having an affair with a lobbyist. For guns. Or war, or tobacco. Something shitty. BUT, she was also being pressured by him for help with his gun/war/tobacco lobbying. AND she was giving in. She was also pregnant. But no one else knows. Or the police told me. Or I find out from the printed out emails.

I decide to take my revenge on him, by exposing him as a corrupt lobbyist. There isn't enough evidence, so to do this I have to forge letters, or sign emails, but that's fine because I can do her signature because of some reason from the past which is light hearted but has a dark edge to it. Or is about a restaurant where we knew the owner. He was Italian.

But then at the archive, or the city library which has those green reading lights and a security guard that knows my name, I meet a woman. She is hot. A beautiful lawyer, or journalist, depending on what I am. We have sex.

She helps me get some information I want but also through her I find out that my wife was pregnant with The Lobbyist's child. So I probably didn't know already, and no one else knew. I cry. Actually, I punch a wall after drinking too many whiskeys. The hot lawyer smokes, and so do I. I smoke cigars. No, cheroots. No, cigarettes. Lucky Strikes. No, cigarillos. A pipe. Hookha pipes. Cigarettes.

I amount enough evidence to bring a case against The Lobbyist, but then the Beautiful Lawyer turns out to be a double agent and threatens to expose me as a fraud if I don't do something specific. I do it, or I won't do it and it's about money or guns. Or drugs.

If I do it, then The Lobbyist goes down, but I've helped guns or drugs. If I don't do it, then the Lobbyist will walk free, but I've been moral and retained my integrity.

I do it, or I don't do it. Something happens, I'm either crushed and bitter and drink whiskey, or I go to The Lobbyist's house and piss on his car.

Psychosis Drawings 11 (the dark light)

2009-03-05T11:08:00.012Z

Psychosis Drawings 11 (the dark light), biro on newsprint, 2009

Paris, February 2009

2009-03-03T11:00:00.001Z

The barman in this bistro looks like Serge Gainsbourg. Not a lot, but enough for me to consider asking to have a photo taken with him. I have a friend who likes Serge Gainsbourg, and I think he would like it.
I being to notice all the things English people notice when they visit France; the food is nice and the people are rude.

But the food isn't that nice, just nicer than English food, and the people aren't rude, they are just speaking a different language.

Psychosis Drawings #10 (close proximity to the text seems to imbue them with a deep euphoria, they are learning)

2009-03-02T13:56:00.007Z

Psychosis Drawings #10 (close proximity to the text seems to imbue them with a deep euphoria, they are learning), pen on newsprint, 2009

Blogs of note

2009-02-28T21:13:00.000Z

http://www.caistruth.blogspot.com/

http://pedroandmartinescabar.blogspot.com/

Two recent blogs by two interesting people.

Psychosis Drawings #9 (those with the mark of the true cross were said to posses marvellous abilities)

2009-02-25T09:38:00.003Z

Psychosis Drawings #9 (those with the mark of the true cross were said to posses marvellous abilities), biro on newsprint, 2009

What the Fuck Seth Price?

2009-02-17T10:15:00.001Z

I wrote a piece on the Tate Triennial. In it I write about about Seth Price's contribution to Nicolas Bourriad's 'Altermodern'. The show is worthwhile seeing, for the good bits as well as the bad bits, though I really believe the dominance of the curatorial concept show is nearly over.

Anyhow, if you want to see the piece, click here.

or go to http://goodasdead.org/2009/02/13/what-the-fuck-seth-price/

Enjoy!

Psychosis Drawings #8 (some were taken against their will, but most came of their own accord)

2009-02-10T22:57:00.006Z

Psychosis Drawings #8 (some were taken against their will, but most came of their own accord), biro on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #7 (the foul smelling advisors)

2009-02-03T19:35:00.008Z

Psychosis Drawings #7 (the foul smelling advisors), biro on newsprint, 2009

A short description of my poo

2009-02-02T18:19:00.010Z

I have a new project. A blog in which every day, I write down a short description of my poo. You can find the link on the links menu to the right. Or just type in //ashortdescriptionofmypoo.blogspot.com/.

500 Cans of SPAM, in a Four Foot by Four Foot Hole, in Highwoods Country Park in Colchester

2009-01-29T11:39:00.018Z

500 Cans of SPAM, in a Four Foot by Four Foot Hole, in Highwoods Country Park in Colchester, mixed media, 2009

The piece consists of a four foot by four foot (4' x 4') hole, filled with cans of SPAM, in Highwoods Country Park, Colchester.

The documentation of this piece consists of a photograph of the hole filled with cans of SPAM, a link to a Google Map location of the sculpture [clickhere], and this explanatory text.

Celebrity Lookalikes

2009-01-26T10:01:00.002Z

Celebrity Lookalikes, advert, 2009

Celebrity Lookalikes, email response, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #6 (the sky ascent of the christ lord)

2009-01-22T10:22:00.004Z

Psychosis Drawings #6 (the sky ascent of the christ lord), biro on newsprint, 2009

Psychosis Drawings #5 (even the stars are drawn down from the sky to listen to the king's poetry)

2009-01-21T17:13:00.004Z

Psychosis Drawings #5 (even the stars are drawn down from the sky to listen to the king's poetry), biro on newsprint, 2009

Deconstructive Response to 'Uninformed Ideas for Sci-fi Novels in the Art World' by Pete Hindle

2009-01-09T17:01:00.001Z

This is a response, by Pete Hindle (http://www.petehindle.com/) to an article that has just been published in the new issue of 'artartart'.

The original article can be found here.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know what? I love sci-fi. And therefore, fuck you Matt. Let's break down your article.

I don't read a lot of sci-fi.

You don't say. Really? I mean, I know a lot of people in a lot of different areas, and they don't read sci-fi, and they don't read romance books. I read sci-fi and romance books, and I recently got in trouble for pointing out that a recommended sci-fi book was a thinly veiled romance book. Kind of like how every film and tv show that is successful at the minute is a riff of a sci-fi film crossed with a romance plot.

Probably because most of it is shit, but also because it doesn't ever reference the art world.

Oh yeah, because "Zima Blue" by Alastair Reynolds wasn't a reference. But what about the other way? I mean, you get artists referencing the world of sci-fi but I guess we can just chuck that out the window because that wouldn't fit in with the theme of the essay, so I'll just shut up about the Morrisons version of Foundation and Empire. Or the pole-dancing robot. Yeah, you heard, the pole dancing robot.

Being an artist and a writer, I only like to read about things that directly connect with my own tiny sphere of reality. Actually, I did read a load of JG Ballard short stories, but reading old sci-fi is like watching yesterday's weather report.

Plus, his newer stuff is accepted as being proper literary device'd. We'll just not poke the whole 'tiny sphere of reality' idea as... you're a sarcastic bastard.

I have jotted down a few ideas for some sci-fi stories. They aren't very likely to get published, probably because I'll never get round to writing them.

Sci-fi Story #1
A young man wakes up one day, realising that he can see 12 seconds in to the past. His life consists of replying to throw away conversation that has just been forgotten about. His unique ability to reference the recent past makes him an art star. He critiques all of human activity, 12 seconds after it happens.
The almost instantaneous ironization of everything in the whole world ever makes people realize just how vacuous they are. Mass suicide ensues. The young man makes a triumphant final art work, by throwing himself from the rooftop of an artist led space in Kilburn, catching the mass suicide trend at it's peak, 12 seconds after it has begun. Everyone realises that suicide isn't even cool, and the art world is returned to normal.

Suicide as an art form can be seen in the two-volume book by Tanith Lee, sometimes refered to as "Drinking Saphire Wine" (it's original title, and therefore the one I know it under) where people can live near-infinite lives with replacement bodies. The protagonist is an artist who talks about his/her (you can change sex with bodies) actions as a type of actionist art.

Sci-fi Story #2
Anthony Gormley's sculptures become so popular that they become a fixture in every single town and village in Great Britain. One day they become self-conscious and begin killing and eating humans (when they poo, a little clay sculpture of a person comes out). The main character, a speculative realist, known only as J, realises that Gormley himself is controlling the actions of all the human-eating sculptures with some weird, ant-pheromone, mind control shit.
J goes to Gormley towers for an epic battle with the evil genius, whose feet are hooked up to a cheap-looking machine that sends his thoughts out to all the sculptures. J is surrounded by Gormley's minions, and they are about to turn him into a initially badly received, but suddenly and inexplicably revered piece of public art. Out of nowhere, the Head of Newcastle Gateshead Cultural Partnership crashes through a window. He rips Gormley's Birkenstocks from his feet, severing the mind connection between Gormley and his sculptures and just as J is about to be eaten, they lose their hideous powers and become inanimate once again.

Oh look, deus ex machina. This is nearly the plotline of Barberella.

Sci-fi Story #4
All the art critics die, and, like when bees become extinct, it turns out that without art criticism, food production comes to a halt. Farmers look out upon barren fields. Mothers look shamefully at their deflated teats as their babies cry for food. A man looks at an empty pot noodle, and then at his shrivelled, acorn like penis. It is, somehow, related.
With the ecology of the cultural sphere thrown out of kilter, the only seeming way to survive is to eat all the gallery assistants, who are living off of the out of date sandwiches in the unused cafés of small galleries around the world. A wily assistant, called Chloe, is the only member of her visitor services team left. Using only two RGB projectors, an old slide carousel, and a box of organic fruit left over from the curator's office, she manages to re-establish the notion of subjective, authoritative experience. Art criticism is re-born, along with a new generation of informed, interesting art critics. The plants are pollinated, and crops are grown. Chloe is rewarded for saving the world, with an unpaid internship at a major contemporary space.

Sometimes you get so stuck into working within a milieu that you can't see anything but that area which the milieu is responsible for. See: capitalism. This is vaguely reminiscent of Douglas Adam's "shoe event horizon", from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series.

Sci-fi Story #5
The internet somehow gets turned off.

Wait: is this bit actually written by Elton John?

Without the ability to google the spelling of words, look up obscure philosophical schools on Wikipedia, or access even the most basic of pornography, the art press falls apart. Without any reviewers going to openings, thousands of litres of cheap, warm red wine go to waste on fold out tables in galleries around the world. This booze-lake upsets the hydro-cycle and huge tsunamis are triggered around the world. Everyone dies, apart from a small band of artists, living in a commune in Vienna. They have to re-populate the world and there are some overwritten and quite grim sex scenes.

Sci-fi sex scenes are always weird. Also, I used to read loads of Stephen King when I was a kid and his sex scenes were really odd. I remember one guy being tugged off by someone with a sponge-glove. I still don't think I really understand the concept of a sponge glove.

Whereas regular literary expression has just fine and dandy sex scenes, with the Literary Review's "Just Fine And Dandy Sex Scenes of The Year".

Sci-fi Story #6
A young artist working in laboratory stumbles in to a room containing top secret military equipment. He falls in to a cupboard, which turns out to be a time machine. He appears in late 1950s New York, makes friends with Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock and Clement Greenberg and obtains a dependence on alcohol and morphine. He sleeps with loads of peoples wives, and occasionally beats up Greenberg. But that's ok because Greenberg gets really annoying sometimes. Everyone smokes an incredible amount of cigarettes, but in a cool, 1950s way, not a modern, coping with psychosis way.
The young artist realises that to get back to his own time, he must stop Rothko committing suicide, and to do this he must make sure that Rothko's wife never leaves him. The young artist realises that 2008 is shit, and actually, he prefers 1950s New York. Also he figures that he can just move away before Rothko kills himself in 1970, and avoid having to deal with that. Instead of making sure that Rothko's wife never leaves him, the young artist just sleeps with her on and off for several years.

Actually, this sounds like the sort of book that I keep getting given every time I express dissatisfaction with the genre of "books with space ships on the cover". The last book I read that wasn't in that genre was Flannery O'Connor, from which I deduced that books without space ships on the cover are a massive bummer to read. So, presumably, there will be a huge portion of this story that reads like a depressing relationship taken on too long, and then the end will be some sort of denumant about the end of a period, and how we can all learn, but a poigant period of time must first pass. Blah blah fucking blah, because that's what Richard and Judy keep picking for their book club, so we know that's what people really want to read.

Evaluating and Moralising
Sci-fi is about the act of looking forward to bring a new perspective on the present. By looking forward I mean imagining the possible, rather than predicting a future reality. Often this means that when you read sci-fi, it is wildly optimistic about the possibilities of technology, or involves lots of people (women) wearing skin tight clothes.

Whereas regular literary fiction just means that people are wildly optimistic about the ability of emotions to mean something to other people, and they often include lots of people having sex. Except it's meaningful, so that's okay.

When sci-fi is really successful, it focuses on the reality of the people inhabiting a world, so that any situation, no matter how unreal, is recognisable as our world.

Does it? If you've not really read a lot of sci-fi, how do you know? Anyway, you should skip the whole sci-fi genre and head straight for sf, aka speculative fiction. Go watch that video I linked to there, because I travelled for most of a day to watch that talk in person, and it was shit hot.

Sci-fi constantly attempts to align itself to the future. Art is in a state of constant return to the recent past. It picks apart its own faecal matter in the gonzo-porn repetition of art market finality. With the art market on its arse, maybe that critical eye could be turned outwards, and like sci-fi in reverse, could criticise the present, to forge a possible future.

Actually, sf - aka speculative fiction - has been forging possible futures for a while now. That's why Bruce Sterling, ex-wunderkind of the SF community circa the 1990s is living a life of riley teaching design students what spimes are. You can read his state of the world address for 2009 here - http://www.well.com/conf/inkwell.vue/topics/343/Bruce-Sterling-State-of-the-Worl-page01.html - but I expect you'd be better served doing some research into his idea of things that have identifing tags on them.

Y'know, like the oyster card. And those other things that art doesn't talk about.

Postscript
Most people like to believe that they will witness the apocalypse.

Wtf?

Once the reality of a total nihilism has been established, it is hard to see anything that happens in your life as important, apart from the possibility that the world will end while you are alive. My fantasy apocalypse involves our ability to record our existence catching up with our actions; a feedback loop of total simulation. This would historicize all action as it happens, causing human activity to come to a standstill. Our existence could be defined as two post-pubescent, wispily moustachioed men in flannel shirts, vomiting in to each others mouths, for eternity.
Still from Orson Welles 'The Trial' (1962), written by Franz Kafka

wtf? Anyway, watching old stuff on tv is like watching yesterday's weather report from somewhere you no longer live.

Pete

PS: Top SF recommendation: Cryptonomicon, by Neal Stephenson.

Psychosis Drawings #4 (the bloated belly of the dominant female)

2009-01-06T20:42:00.003Z

Psychosis Drawings #4 (the bloated belly of the dominant female), biro on newsprint, 2008

Psychosis Drawings #3 (haunted by the faces of his lost brothers)

2009-01-05T20:34:00.003Z

Psychosis Drawings #3 (haunted by the faces of his lost brothers), biro on newsprint, 2008

Click here for more of the 'Psychosis Drawings' series

Ludwig

2009-01-02T09:34:00.001Z

I am reading, 'The House of Wittgenstein', by Alexander Waugh. I have a fascination with the psychology of philosophy. Especially those philosophers whose philosophy denies psychology.

Here is a picture of Ludwig Wittgenstein on his deathbed

And here is a Marlene Dumas painting.

When we are born we all look like Winston Churchill, and when we die we look like a Marlene Dumas painting.

I am not even halfway through the book yet, and it has already made a great comparison of the structural similarities between his, 'Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus' and a book by Tolstoy called, 'Gospels in Brief'. As well as the structure, is fair to say that despite my reading of his work as the devastation of metaphysics, there is an element of the transcendental in his writing.
All philosophy is searching for a higher truth, even if that higher truth confirms a nihilistic outlook. Everyone is looking for a way to live, and philosophers see reasoning as the best method (even if reason is unreasonable). The question of being translates in to a question of knowledge, and (for those who seek it) perfect knowledge means perfect existence (dare I say, happiness?). Unfortunately, below this level of knowledge, happiness and knowledge are not correlational, but no one mentions that until it is too late.

Harry Hill's TV Burp: Infiltrative, Purposeless Critique.

2008-12-27T09:18:00.004Z

I've always liked Harry Hill. When I first saw him on late night Channel 4, I watched the whole series convinced that they were repeating the same episode over and over again. They may as well have been. Repetition is TV's preferred technique and TV is Harry's preferred medium. 'TV Burp', on ITV, is the convergence of critique and production, the perfect place for Harry Hill's comedy. A man employed on a populist television channel, to laugh at populist television, and subsequently becoming one of the most popular shows on the channel. His humour laughs at its subject, itself and the audience who it seeks to amuse.

There are parallels with Charlie Brooker's 'Screenwipe'; two men who make a living from television production finding their niche criticising the medium which pays their bills. But ITV is no BBC 4, and Brooker is insightful and occasionally self-congratulatory (hear him talk about 'The Wire'). Harry Hill is merciless and has no desire to change the status quo. He frequently makes jokes concerning abstracted clips from the television show he is talking about.

These jokes are made for their own sake, without justification. In this way, 'TV Burp' fits into ITVs perceived remit of emptiness, but the reversal of this is when Harry infiltrates the world he seems to be excluded from.

This is where 'TV Burp' becomes complex, layered critique. Its success lays in its mixed audience, to watch 'TV Burp' is not to be part of the exclusive 'Screenwipe' club of BBC 4 viewers, but to engage with prime time, Saturday night television. By watching the show, you are supporting ITVs schedule and advertisers, as well as laughing at the absurdity of the television that, as a society, we produce.

I suppose you could compare Harry Hill to Damien Hirst's position in the art market (pre-collapse); his critique of the system involves being part of that system. How ever, Hary Hill, unlike Hirst, does not use money as his critical weapon, and therefore escapes the circular rhetoric that pervades Hirst's defence of his work. Harry Hill refuses to be allocated a single position, he is both a populist and a staunch individualist; an anarchist and a conservative. He is, in other words, infuriating. He is not 'helping', and for this I have to enjoy him a little more. That something can be so harmless, yet so malevolent, so trivial, and yet so complex, is heartening. 'TV Burp' is without any higher purpose; surely the purest form of critique?.

Complaining to the ASA About the 2008 Marks and Spencer Christmas Food Advert

2008-12-23T12:36:00.005Z

Complaining to the ASA About the 2008 Marks and Spencer Christmas Food Advert, scanned letter, 2008

Psychosis Drawings #2 (the childrens' serotonin is depleted, we need a new lord)

2008-12-17T18:56:00.004Z

Psychosis Drawings #2 (the childrens' serotonin is depleted, we need a new lord), biro and tipex, 2008

Click here for more of the 'Psychosis Drawings' series

Psychosis Drawings #1 (child being led away from the pack)

2008-12-17T00:23:00.004Z

Psychosis Drawings #1 (child being led away from the pack), biro on newsprint, 2008

Martin Heidegger, Looking Surprised

2008-11-30T09:53:00.002Z

Martin Heidegger, Looking Surprised, scanned image, 2008

2008-11-30T09:29:00.001Z

To sign up to a mailing list giving you irregular and sporadic information about Matthew de Kersaint Giraudeau, and his artistic endeavours, email mailinglist@dekersaint.co.uk with the subject 'mailinglist'.

2008-11-27T10:59:00.000Z

Original Sketch, pencil on paper, 2008

2008-11-26T10:55:00.000Z

Letter to Harwich Town Council 28/11/08, scanned letter, 2008

Big hands

2008-11-20T10:33:00.000Z

You've got big hands,
look at those big hands,
what big hands.

He has big hands.

2008-11-19T10:29:00.000Z

So I take the pint and bring it right up in his face. It breaks in his eyes and just below his nose. He falls over and starts screaming and then I start crying and then no one even offers me another drink.