Shaun Kardinal

Installation at Two Shelves, October 14th, 2014

A Participatory Digital Installation created for Two Shelves

Two Shelves is an apartment gallery which promotes site-specific installation. Rather than ask artists to simply show their usual work on a shelf, the aptly-titled project’s founders hope the intimate and minimal space is used as a springboard for new ideas. When invited to exhibit, my recent projects had all been digital, online exhibitions, and I knew that I wanted that work to carry over into this physical space.

After some time considering projections against a wall-piece, I decided I didn’t want anything tangible. I wanted a screen on the wall, or possibly multiple small screens, and after the sobering realization that I couldn’t afford a batch of tablets came the epiphany: nearly every visitor to the show would have a screen with them. I would simply request that the visitor load the project in some fashion and participate, contributing to the whole. This simple premise eventually led to Relinquish.Me, the piece which, iterated into a multitude of variables, generates the installation. Hence: Left to Your Own Devices.

To the exhibition space, I brought nothing physical: there was no install, and there was no wall text. Visitors were verbally prompted to enter the url into their mobile device, select a screen orientation, then participate by placing the device anywhere on a shelf. On screen, a video looped—a set of clips, selected randomly from several hours of video screen captures, documentations of operating system performances, created for the exhibition.

Here, for example, are several devices running a few sets of clips…

Live demo: devices on two shelves

The installation grew and contracted as the crowd did. It was remarkable to see the room of people stripped of their phones and the usual engagement that goes with them. Nearly everybody faced the wall of screens, like in a theater, and conversations flowed. At first, along with project founders Joe Rudko and Kelly Björk, I personally instructed people; in time, the visitors shared the premise of the show among one another. As Joe quipped, the url went viral.

Create your own unique installation!

My favorite part of this piece is that an iteration of it can be created anywhere, anytime. It is ready for you online. Simply load Relinquish.Me into any number of mobile browsers, choose your screen orientation, and place the devices together for your own unique, never-the-same-twice, digital installation.

Further reading: Interview with Greg Lundgren for ‘Between the Shelves’

An exhibition on Instagram

Lately I’ve been interested in pursuing new routes of engagement in my creative output. Changing up not only my art-making activity, but also reconsidering my standards of presentation and promotion.

When I started making these digital collages of “found” images (taken from Google searches and friends’ Facebook and Instagram feeds), I knew they would be presented only digitally. I did not want to make another precious thing for sale.

Eventually I chose my Instagram feed as the right exhibition space, and would, as a sort of durational performance, post the images over the course of two hours during Seattle’s First Thursday Art Walk. Following contemporary standards, I encouraged people to check it out with a Facebook event, but excluded any telling information and images. #gabbo

When the evening came, I got myself setup at a favorite bar where, lit blue by iPhone and Macbook, I posted an image. Every ten minutes, I composed another—using Instagram’s filters and editor to finish each piece.

(mainlining the secret truths of the universe)

People engaged in the set actively as I posted. In my home feed, the images mixed with shots of other work, tangible work, lining the walls of proper art spaces.

I drank two whiskey-gingers and ate a plate of fries with garlic aioli.

flying

is

learning

how

to

throw

yourself

at

the

ground

and

miss.

When I wrapped things up with the final title image, I closed my computer and put away my phone. Still alone at the bar, I felt newly connected to my art and community, rejuvenated and altogether satisfied with a successful project.

(thank you for joining me)

Disorder(s). Hand-embroidered inkjet print, 4-3/4 x 4-3/4 inches.

Hand-made cover art for hand-picked tunes.

Over the last few years, I have contributed music mixes to Tender Validations Mix of the Month Club. Every few months, an assignment is given based on a theme. Once you’ve made a mix and created some art for it, you send it in with a couple bucks. In return, you’re shipped someone else’s creation as well as a second mix made by the project’s caretakers, an always-excellent selection of tunes culled from all the other mixes. It’s a very satisfying project from start to finish.

This year I embroidered a few of the covers. For Disorder(s), a series of rock songs about mental disorders, I used the light/dark motif I’m so fond of to give weight to the constant dualistic struggle of  the mind. For SPACE (listen), I used a few of the remaining pages from the NASA Hasselblad catalog I used for my Many Moons project with some sparse text elements.

If you’re into making music mixes, I highly recommend taking part in an upcoming TVMotMC assignment!

SPACE. Hand-embroidered paper collage, 4-3/4 x 4-3/4 inches.

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A hero emerges…

An anonymous Reaction GIF blog about the pitfalls of life in the art world
or an ongoing investigation examining the fecundity of Examined Investigations

During a period of deep dissatisfaction with the art world, I came across an animated GIF of Tina Fey’s peerless Liz Lemon. “Oh, brother,” she moaned, and as her eyes rolled on and on, the premise of First Thursday Art Schlock washed over me—a safe place to vent anonymous, honest critique. +lols

I setup a Tumblr and made a post…

“When your artist statement uses the word FECUNDITY.”
Inaugural FTAS post, May 17 2012.

Within the hour, I wrote a dozen more. I’d been following other reaction gif blogs and reddit threads, so I knew the format and what could work. I got so immediately into it that I’d made twenty posts by day’s end. Pent up anxiety and displeasure poured out of me so readily that I had to pace the output. Even with a rule to never repeat myself, I had over 100 things off my chest in the first two months.

In order to remain anonymous, I only shared the link with three close friends at the start. One of them posted it to Facebook and, awesomely, it quickly grew a devout set of followers. When there was a good group going, I publicly became a fan of the blog as well.

The response was surprisingly positive, considerate, and honest. I was overjoyed seeing people relate to the posts, share them, ask around who ran the thing. FTAS did several interviews and was even highlighted in best-of and year-end lists. But the most satisfying thing was hearing people bring it up in conversation, simply excited about it, not knowing—and getting to play along as a fan of the blog myself. Those were the salad days.

“I’m feeling lucky…”
Screenshot of and collaboration with Google Suggested Search, 2012

Soon I started making parodies of celebrated work I encountered in Seattle. FTAS Originals had one clear statement: “If I can make your art in 5 minutes, I will.”

“Look Ma, No Talent”
A First Thursday Art Schlock Original, 2012

I applied for The Betty Bowen Award, a highly sought-after artist grant, under the pseudonym Art T. Schlock.

“Betty Bowen Award Shoo-In”
Stuff on a wall, 2012
18″ x 18″ x 4″
$15000.00
Part of 2012 Betty Bowen Award Application Entry series.

“The Same Two Things on the Ground in Four Places”
Photos of stuff on the ground, 2012
128″ x 128″
$15000.00
Part of 2012 Betty Bowen Award Application Entry series.

“The Eternal Struggle”
Printed Screenshots of Google™ Images®, 2012
120″ x 120″
$15000.00
Part of 2012 Betty Bowen Award Application Entry series.

Eventually the project yielded an unexpected product for me: peace. The honesty of the whole thing and its general embrace proved to be incredibly therapeutic. I also began involving myself less and less in all of the things that irked me, which in hindsight seems such a simple gesture. While this progress was great for me, it was the eventual death-knell for the project itself. A self-canceling system.

“Hold the Ketchup”
A First Thursday Art Schlock Original, 2013

The project continued to gain steam and followers. For months I felt bound to its continued existence, that I had to keep up with this anonymous curmudgeon. Posting became as anxiety-inducing as the art shows that once spawned them.

“Typeface for the ineffective (and those who are ‘on the nip’)”
A First Thursday Art Schlock Original, 2013

Nearing 180 posts and a year of existence, I reached my end. Three ceremonial final posts wrapped things up and I bid FTAS farewell. Friends who had eventually figured me out wrote with condolences and I even saw some goodbye shout-outs that really made it feel right.

It was a satisfying conclusion for me.

Months passed. I got a great new job at an art museum and had an incredibly busy summer of shows. I found myself once again embroiled with the art world in ways that were occasionally maddening—and as I did, more and more friends suggested that I bring the thing back. I took time to consider it, and ultimately felt it would be better in someone else’s hands.

So, three months after my end with First Thursday Art Schlock, I found my replacement, drafted and signed a Dread Pirate Roberts Scenario Pact, and handed off the keys.

It was the most rewarding, honest and engaging project I have yet been a part of.

Hand-embroidered archival inkjet print, 10 x 10 inches.

Created for ONN/OF, a two-day art festival of Light.

I was invited to contribute a piece of art and a drink recipe for the Visual Art Happy Hour of the ONN/OF art festival, which was all about providing Light in the midst of Seattle’s generally dreary gray winter. During one of these gray mornings, I took a photo from my living room window. While there was some digital manipulation in the textures of the clouds in the photo, there was not much further color-adjusting necessary–it really was a perfectly flat, gray morning.

I had two archival inkjet prints made of the shot. Still interested in embroidery, I decided to sew up the first, preparing a mandala pattern which generated a sun-like shape.

Das Hermosa Mimosa Platter, mounted archival inkjet print, 16 x 16 inches.

The second print, altered with a set of glowing orbs radiating from its center, served as a platter for the drink portion of my contribution: Das Hermosa Mimosa, an editioned set of mimosa gelatin shots, presented individually in 1.5oz paint containers–wee doses of delicious light and beauty. A tasty little treat, I thought.

Das Hermosa Mimosa, 1.5oz champagne & oj gelatin shot in paint container, edition of 25.

I am happy to report that all 25 shots were snatched up during the Happy Hour. I hope they brought a glow to those who consumed them!

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