Rum Shebeen’s sunshine anthem remixed by Jamie T and turned into an eulogy for Notting Hill Carnival. Summer’s over.

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Artist, photographer, writer, dj, promoter, shaman? London-based Mathew Stone has survived much of the media hyperbole surrounding his activity as spearhead of the !WOWOW! collective to rise as a respected 21st century thinker. I caught up with Mathew ahead of his latest salon, an event curated by the artist as part of the Great British Art Debate.

What brought about this collaboration?

The curator Cedar Lewison is working on a series of events and publications called “The Great British Art Debate”. He had heard that I ran salons and asked if I could do something similar for the project.

Interconnected echoes as a series seems to comprise of interviews, exhibitions and now a debate, could you explain a bit more about why you’ve chosen to use this title so often and what we can expect in the future?

I often re-use titles when I see a work as having the potential for translation and further exploration in another format. To me “Interconnected Echoes” is a poetic statement on how I see collaborative thinking occur.

You work on many projects. Would you still define yourself as a painter?

No. It seems silly to call myself a painter. I studied painting and feel informed by the history of it, but I don’t paint.

I thought about this specifically because you are now a curator for this project – which aims to provoke debate much like an installation artist would bring objects and images together to create an artwork.

I try and employ the same type of approach to all the different things that I do. I enjoy collaborating. My discussion-based events can in one sense be viewed as distinct artworks that I have instigated, but I feel it’s much more interesting to see them as evolving, multi-authored beings that are constantly redefined.

Herbert Read made a clear distinction between Art & Culture. What do you see as pure art today? Or would you argue against Read. Say, argue that the culture surrounding art is just as important.

I believe that a definition of art should encompass all of human endeavor, but I also believe that art should act as an aspirational model for human behavior. I understand the contradiction in that statement, but I think that it’s a necessary one.

As a DJ do you ever consider the exhibition should have a soundtrack or do you think its necessary to keep art and music separate?

Mostly when I DJ, it’s to earn money to keep making work. It’s interesting what you learn. Somebody once pointed out to me that in America in the early nineties there was this particular type of dance music, Baltimore club and they use this one break. But in the UK the same drum beat was being used except in rave records and I kind of like the idea that there is something that stays the same across the world but that there is also a part which is influenced by the context. The country that it emerges from. It’s obviously creative. But I don’t expect it to function in the same way as other parts of my output. It’s different if I am working on a soundtrack for a film of course.

Is there anything identifiable as British in London now?

The problem is multiculturalism as something that is specific to London and not actually a British thing. If I see an artistic scene in London, it’s going across lot’s of different levels, I see people working outside of art in a way that is informed by art or is shaped by art whether its music or different types of events. I think there’s a new type of messiness to the scene which is why it’s not so identifiable.

I’m particularly interested in gender and sexuality. Do you think Performance art is a certain late 20th century obsession with the body?

I would imagine that an obsession with the body is something that has always existed. I think that it’s interesting to try to understand performance-based art by relating it to ritual. Often this relationship is explicit, for example, I see Joseph Beuys and Marina Abramovic making overt references to spiritual practices from history, as well as to the present. I think that ritual within a contemporary (art) context facilitates a credible and relevant re-empowerment of ancient mythological thinking in the present.

Does Performance art serve to solve issues of gender and sexual confusion in a ways that institutions outside of the art world cannot?

I think that the triumph over suffering can occur in any context. The problem with institutions is their rigidity. When we serve a concrete social structure, we limit our opportunities to serve our communities. It inhibits the potential for self-sacrifice, which altruism relies on.

Do you think the web can break down such boundaries?

In a mass sense it’s weirdly democratic. I wondered if there is a case for arguing that actually by seeing mediated images on Google, it’s a more realistic understanding of the impact of art work than it might be if you see it in a gallery space which is a reverential environment.

Do you ever think we will reach a stage when gender will no longer be an issue. Personality as the sole factor people are judged on?

I think that the potential for this type of open-mindedness already exists. There will always be conflict, but there will also always be space to find creative solutions to it.

People have called you a pioneering force in the art world. What is the future for art, what form do you think it will take?

Robert Fillou once said “The great lesson of modern art is freedom. Now we have to incorporate ‘art as freedom’ into the fabric of everyone’s life.” I feel that this is a continual process.

http://www.matthewstone.co.uk/

http://www.greatbritishartdebate.tate.org.uk/

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Maks is freelance journalist. He has contributed articles to Don’t Panic, FACT, USELESS and AnOther Man as well as managing his own arts and culture website Haus Digital. Maks is interested in photography, graphic design and instillation as well as the relationship between cultural, gender and sexual identity in relation to art and architecture. He will be regularly contributing articles to the Off Modern blog.

Summer’s over, its raining, the builders are slowly blocking out all the sunlight at OM HQ and its getting colder and more wintery by the day, which means it’s almost time for another year of Off Modern events at Corsica Studios. The first one back is on October 7th, we’ll be releasing line-ups and details pretty soon. Hold tight.

Before that though, if you happen to be in Paris on the 20th of October, Off Modern are hosting an event at Point Ephemere. If you’re in Paris or just want to make the journey over, we’ll have all the details confirmed very shortly, but housewives’ favourites Fiction will be making the trip with us to break the hearts of a load of Parisian girls. It’s going to be an evening full of limitless fun, so come join us on a derive between all-night bars and a dip in the Seine.

The next item of news is even more of a long shot really, but if you’re in Tokyo on the 11th of September, the Off Modern Journal #1 will be at the Tokyo Magazine Library, which is taking place at GALERIE VIE in the Aoyama district of Tokyo. If you happen to find yourself in Tokyo then go check it out.

In other Journal news you can now buy issue one from the ICA bookshop, LMNOP Shop, in Brighton and from Ras Gallery, in Barcelona. We are currently compiling the second issue of the journal, if you’d like to submit anything, the please drop an email to contact@offmodern.com, if we like it, we’ll get in touch.

Finally, our good friends over at Holy Ghost have an exhibition running at CAMP, on Old Street, the private view is tonight, the 26th of August, there’ll be free Absinthe. That’s great, right?

Take care.

We slept most of the way to the coast, taking turns at the wheel to follow sleepy truck drivers and their soft taillights glowing. I woke in the pre-dawn haze to see the firelights of San Bernardino dancing on the horizon, in the pale, grey light of the early morning the road was infinitely sadder and more refined and that’s how we knew we were, at last, on the road to Los Angeles. The ghost light made everything appear sharper and somewhat less beautiful. As we rolled down from the valley into L.A. the sun made the town more real and we caught our first glimpse of the city by the sea, where all good dreams go to die.

We turned off the 101 at San Luis Obispo and left Los Angeles behind. It was important to be on the move and to keep on going and, as the sky grew darker, we began to feel normal once again. After the turn-off the road curved down and away from the town in a long, graceful sweep that was neither beautiful nor strategic. The land on either side was mainly agricultural but sometimes vineyards were raised and brown-skinned Mexicans were working under large straw hats to protect themselves in the afternoon sun. There was no joy nor camaraderie amongst the workers in the field and although a few of the older labourers passed around a bottle of wine they just seemed numb, not that many were drinking.

We took the road that continued along the plateau for a while and then started to climb upwards, towards the hills that marked the beginning of the coast. From here you couldn’t yet see the sea but every so often the breeze came through the sun-roof and it was salty, Bill smiled and said “we’re going home,” and then the Pacific Ocean lay before us as we crested the rise and it really did feel like home.

The ocean laid before us, jeweled with white crests as far as the eye could see, and where the sky formed the horizon you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Below us the road dipped sharply towards the coast and then hugged the cliff-sides until, a way off, you could see where it turned round the headland and then you couldn’t see where it carried on anymore.

We drove for a while with the waves crashing against the sea wall, whilst on the other side old beach houses sat empty for the winter season against the sad backdrop of the sandy scrubland.
“I know what I’m talking about,” Bill was saying “I was quite well known at College.”
“I’m not going to tell you who she was.”
“Go on.”
“Probably not.”
“I know her?”
“Indirectly.”
“Fascinating.”

At Morro Bay we stopped the car to take photographs on a verge overlooking the beach. It felt good to have the sand under our feet again after so much concrete and hard dirt.
There were fishermen doing some serious fishing on the shoreline and they didn’t look to kindly on our loud voices by the sea.
“One thing i can’t seem to find is a good beach and a girl that’s always smiling.”
I nodded in agreement but really i was just glad to get out of the car.
The road continued on for another one hundred and fifty miles and it really was the most amazing drive. Sometimes we would be a hundred feet above the sea and other times we would descend, quite rapidly, to the shoreline and there were sea lions basking in the sun on the flat, grey rocks that ran alongside the verge.

We would stop the car on the sand by the side when there was no-one around, just to take pictures of nothing but the road disappearing into the distance. Once, there were two photographers on the other side setting up their tripods to take staid portraits of the bluff of the cliff, or the sun, or some other repetitive detail and they looked on, fascinated, as we photographed the straight road ahead.

Often, there’d be signs warning you of an impending rock-fall and you could see how it could become quite impassable at certain points of the year. But no rocks fell on our roof and we made it to Monetery that evening in one piece.

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by Gordon Macrae.

You’ve been missing us right? Well not long to go till we start back up, to keep you sweet though, here’s a mix by Nasty McQuaid. You can download it here.

British Folk: Part One is the first in a trilogy of small hand bound books by photographer James Pearson-Howes (who exhibited some work at the last O/M in May) and designed by Ben Freeman (who printed our journal), documenting bizarre and eccentric British folk traditions. Part one features the shaman like Hunters Moon Morris, the often dangerous Tar Barrels, the peculiar Whittlesea Straw Bear and colorful Red Leicester Morris Men.

These events are no longer about exorcising the town’s demons or getting better crops, they are about being part of a community. It is the people from these communities taking part in these events that the trilogy of books will focus upon.

Each book is litho printed and is a limited edition of 250.

The launch party for Part One is at Donlon Books, (210 Cambridge Heath Road, E9) this saturday.

http://www.icallarchitecturefrozenmusic.com/

Charlie Gibson contributed some wonderful collage work to the first issue of our journal, which you can buy here.

Recently I’ve spent a considerable amount of my time driving around in Dave Ashby’s van. Last friday we moved a photocopier into the OM HQ and the the week before he helped me move house. Dave is a pretty great guy, and he plays in a fantastic band called Rum Shebeen. They’vre just about to put out a double A side of Tropical / Old Punk and they are playing all over London in the next month, try and see them if you can.