Bido Lito June 2021 Issue 114
June 2021 issue of Bido Lito! magazine. Featuring: PODGE, THE CORAL, CRAWLERS, RON'S PLACE, KATY J PEARSON, SEAGOTH, MONDO TRASHO, LIVERPOOL BIENNIAL AND MUCH MORE. June 2021 issue of Bido Lito! magazine. Featuring: PODGE, THE CORAL, CRAWLERS, RON'S PLACE, KATY J PEARSON, SEAGOTH, MONDO TRASHO, LIVERPOOL BIENNIAL AND MUCH MORE.
REVIEWS Rashid Johnson, Stacked Heads, 2020. - Photo: Mark McNulty Liverpool Biennial 2021 Multiple venues, Liverpool – until 27/06 LIVERPOOL BIENNIAL has contributed to some of the city’s most well-known pieces of art: Peter Blake’s Everybody Razzle Dazzle (2015), Jaume Plensa’s Dream (2009) and Antony Gormley’s Another Place (2005). It has garnered international recognition as one of the UK’s largest contemporary art festivals, attracts visitors from around the world, and has made great strides in upholding the city’s cultural reputation. Yet, while its former artworks are well established in the cultural geography of Liverpool, there have remained questions where the Biennial itself has truly been able to do the same – to fully connect with the city and its people, and balance international appeal with a distinctly Liverpudlian identity. In recent editions, Liverpool Biennial has faced criticism locally over its failure to incorporate the city in a meaningful way; to drop pretensions, reach out to the local communities, and make it earn its title of being the ‘Liverpool’ Biennial. However, this particular ire is not directed at other events that tout Liverpool in the title, nor are other events expected to show a distinct link to Liverpool itself. So why does the Biennial have so much to answer to? The theme for the 2021 Biennial, The Stomach and the Port, seems to suggest a conscious decision had been made to make Liverpool’s context take center stage in the curation of this year’s festival. Originally set for 2020, the theme explores the concept of the body, of porosity and transmission, and of kinship and identity. How different would the notions of our bodies be had we not experienced a pandemic that turned our own bodies against us, and isolated our bodies, and denied us the primitive need for touch. And how have the masses of bodies coming together in protest changed our notions of not just our own, but the bodies of other people; dead bodies; of George Floyd’s body, and Sarah Everard’s body? These are global conversations, but the city’s identity is not swamped by their magnitude. It instead localises them and humanises them. Liverpool’s maritime history as a major port; its role in globalisation and colonialism; the uneasy truth that the city owes its wealth to the slave trade; its diaspora communities and own strong sense of identity. Even with themes of kinship and identity, the festival seems to have addressed the suggestions of their own lack thereof within Liverpool, albeit possibly unwittingly. One look at the festival’s route map shows the very conscious decision to feature Liverpool’s spaces outside of the usual four white walls of its art galleries. To see 44
Invernomuto & Jim C. Nedd, GRITO – Las Brisas de Febrero, 2021. Cotton Exchange Building - Photo: Rob Battersby the entire programme, you must walk through every corner of the city and in doing so you are immersed in its context: the docks, the Georgian Quarter, the Ropewalks – their history, what that history represents and their roles in the formation of the city. At times, the context overwhelms the art. Yael David’s Wingspan of the Captive (2021) at Central Library is almost diminished by the grandeur of the room itself, and the surrounding displays of material that inspired the work – the rich 19th century illustrations of American birds by J. J. Audubon and letters from the Hornbys, the Liverpool family the room was named after – make the sculpture itself look more like an accompaniment to the collection, designed to complement, rather than a work born independently of inspiration. At other times, the city and the art meld so seamlessly that it is a wonder that the piece had not sprung from the very spot it stands. Rashid Johnson’s Stacked Heads (2020) is one such work. Set in the Albert Dock, the two bronze ‘heads’ are covered in etchings of the abstract faces from Johnson’s Anxious Men series, with yucca and cacti plants positioned to look as though they had grown organically, as though the sculpture had always been there. The piece encourages contradictions: the plants are not indigenous but can survive the harsh saline winds that never seem to drop along the docks; it fits with the other metal sculptures in the area – the statue of a dock horse, a propeller from the RMS Lusitania, old railway machinery – but its crude style and totem pole form makes it seem foreign, almost tribal. When first opened to the public, its positioning next to the temporarily installed rainbow bridge made it appear small and unassuming despite its ten feet, experienced as something you have passed every day, made inconsequential by its familiarity, imbued with a faded permanence as something that has and will always be there. If the uneasy co-existence of nativeness and foreignness is a muted whisper in Johnson’s piece, then it is an unbridled scream in Invernomuto & Jim C. Nedd’s Grito – Las Brisas de Febrero (2021) at the Cotton Exchange. The visit itself feels climactic, as the building is rarely open to the public. The art is displayed in the basement, underneath the modern, recently regenerated offices, where it is old and cold, with empty rooms full of peeling paint, moulded cracked windows, exposed woodwork and metal chains hanging from the ceiling. Through the rooms, in front of four empty white plastic chairs, a large screen plays footage of a pico competition – street parties where neon-painted sound systems go head to head playing records – in the Colombian village of Palenque. The film is a celebration of culture, of kinship, and plays almost in defiance of the building it is being played in. The vibrancy, sound and movement of the bodies on screen contrasts harshly with the empty dereliction of the building so much so that a strange sensation of jealously emits from the walls, as though REVIEWS 45
- Page 1 and 2: ISSUE 114 / JUNE 2021 NEW MUSIC + C
- Page 3 and 4: TATE LIVERPOOL UNTIL 5 SEPTEMBER 20
- Page 5 and 6: COMING SOON ANTI SOCIAL JAZZ CLUB /
- Page 7 and 8: In Liverpool 2-year degrees and 1-y
- Page 9 and 10: E D I T O R I A L Proximity has bee
- Page 11 and 12: The Orielles - Photo: Rebekah Knox
- Page 13 and 14: LIFE IS FUN Podge has always refuse
- Page 15 and 16: “Everyone has the capability to m
- Page 17 and 18: their own lanes and they’re not f
- Page 19 and 20: THE CORAL On their 10th album, The
- Page 21: FEATURE 21
- Page 24 and 25: Riotous, emotive and informing, Dan
- Page 26 and 27: LIKE THE FIRST TIME Live music retu
- Page 28 and 29: “I’d convinced myself I would b
- Page 30 and 31: MAKING WAVES Adam Noor highlights t
- Page 32 and 33: STATE OF THE STUDIOS, STATE OF THE
- Page 34 and 35: RON’S PLACE 34
- Page 36 and 37: SPOTLIGHT SEAGOTH “Songwriting al
- Page 38 and 39: SPOTLIGHT A LESSER VERSION Liam Eva
- Page 40 and 41: PREVIEWS “If I’d just had it ea
- Page 42 and 43: PREVIEWS GIG VLURE 15/06 - Future Y
- Page 46 and 47: REVIEWS haunted, not by people, but
- Page 48: FUTURE YARD 75 ARGYLE STREET SOCIAL
- Page 52: Tara Finney Productions in Tara ass
- Page 55: THE FINAL SAY “Die-hard fans are
REVIEWS<br />
Rashid Johnson, Stacked Heads, 2020. - Photo: Mark McNulty<br />
Liverpool Biennial <strong>2021</strong><br />
Multiple venues, Liverpool – until<br />
27/06<br />
LIVERPOOL BIENNIAL has contributed to some of<br />
the city’s most well-known pieces of art: Peter Blake’s<br />
Everybody Razzle Dazzle (2015), Jaume Plensa’s<br />
Dream (2009) and Antony Gormley’s Another Place<br />
(2005). It has garnered international recognition as one<br />
of the UK’s largest contemporary art festivals, attracts<br />
visitors from around the world, and has made great<br />
strides in upholding the city’s cultural reputation. Yet,<br />
while its former artworks are well established in the<br />
cultural geography of Liverpool, there have remained<br />
questions where the Biennial itself has truly been able<br />
to do the same – to fully connect with the city and its<br />
people, and balance international appeal with a distinctly<br />
Liverpudlian identity.<br />
In recent editions, Liverpool Biennial has faced<br />
criticism locally over its failure to incorporate the city in<br />
a meaningful way; to drop pretensions, reach out to the<br />
local communities, and make it earn its title of being the<br />
‘Liverpool’ Biennial. However, this particular ire is not<br />
directed at other events that tout Liverpool in the title,<br />
nor are other events expected to show a distinct link to<br />
Liverpool itself. So why does the Biennial have so much<br />
to answer to?<br />
The theme for the <strong>2021</strong> Biennial, The Stomach and<br />
the Port, seems to suggest a conscious decision had<br />
been made to make Liverpool’s context take center stage<br />
in the curation of this year’s festival. Originally set for<br />
2020, the theme explores the concept of the body, of<br />
porosity and transmission, and of kinship and identity.<br />
How different would the notions of our bodies be had we<br />
not experienced a pandemic that turned our own bodies<br />
against us, and isolated our bodies, and denied us the<br />
primitive need for touch. And how have the masses of<br />
bodies coming together in protest changed our notions<br />
of not just our own, but the bodies of other people; dead<br />
bodies; of George Floyd’s body, and Sarah Everard’s<br />
body?<br />
These are global conversations, but the city’s identity<br />
is not swamped by their magnitude. It instead localises<br />
them and humanises them. Liverpool’s maritime history<br />
as a major port; its role in globalisation and colonialism;<br />
the uneasy truth that the city owes its wealth to the slave<br />
trade; its diaspora communities and own strong sense<br />
of identity. Even with themes of kinship and identity, the<br />
festival seems to have addressed the suggestions of<br />
their own lack thereof within Liverpool, albeit possibly<br />
unwittingly.<br />
One look at the festival’s route map shows the very<br />
conscious decision to feature Liverpool’s spaces outside<br />
of the usual four white walls of its art galleries. To see<br />
44