Ben Judd @ The Trade Appartment. Brixton London (11/11/99 -11/12/99)
Ever since Duchamp confronted us with the profound influence of context
on our judgements, artists have sought to emulate the interpretive discomfort
induced by R. Mutt’s infamous ‘Fountain’. Ben Judd’s
work involves a contemporary strategy of re-contextualisation by importing
practises from an underworld image-machine to challenge our moral and
aesthetic responses.
Judd uses amateur photographic studios which, for a price, supply a ‘glamour’ model plus a choice of sets and lighting. The cost legitimises 40-60 year-old men to play the pro’ photographer while commanding complicit women in the creation of erotic tableaux. Their viewfinders and focal-lengths establish the distance crucial to maintaining fantasy and taboo in these strange theatres of captive desire.
The artist has ‘boldly gone’ on our behalf to bring back a critical take on this industry which, though well-known is rarely confronted. Judd of course takes the risk of ‘going native’ but it’s the narrow-ness of the line he walks between artist and just-another-dubious-voyeur that supplies the ambiguous frisson needed to arouse esoteric art-world taste-buds.
On their passage from one world to another, small, soft-porn portraits, preserved in trophy-like triptychs are scrutinised by eyes educated in the objectivity of Thomas Ruff and Rineke Dijkstra. The body-for-hire here appears de-eroticised and de-humanised by its crude commodification but contrived facial expressions repel any sympathy in our gaze. Empathy is only inadvertently betrayed by small scars and unconvincing poses.
Judd’s practise involves elements of quasi-anthropology but it’s unclear who or what is being analysed: -the models and their profession? the art-world ’s taste? or Judd’s own motives?
Three larger, individual prints -one of which approaches the grandeur of an Andreras Serrano, Jeff Wall or late Cindy Sherman- are named after poorly-simulated scenarios created by their backdrops and props e.g. ‘The Dungeon’, ‘The Schoolroom’ or ‘The Barn’. But Judd’s lens exposes the edges of these ludicrously kitsch sets thereby breaking the intended spell of illusion and provoking a clash of realities. Large-format photography adds a gloss of flattering hyper-realism to this series and the inescapable sadness of off-the-peg dreams is raised at least to the level of pathos by the artist’s meta-take on a hackneyed, mechanical procedure.
A video piece, ‘I Remember 2’ adds further dimensions to
this, Judd’s first solo London show, and allows us to witness a
modelling session involving one girl and several hungry snappers. The
video’s view-point is fixed, slightly oblique and altogether ignored
by the model who gradually strips for an off-screen gang demanding pose
after pose from her repertoire. They respond to each change of expression
or position with applause-like flashes.
Judd has also added a monologue soundtrack to this film in which
he nostalgically reminisces over the model’s every move, but
his memories are cleverly mis-timed and aligned to anticipate her
poses. Thus the words operate like ghostly orders or an inner-voice
to which the model complies.
This video, by siting the artist a little closer to the role of outsider,
curiously assures the art audience that here they don’t belong,
and yet this exception underlines the success with which Judd’s
broader project highlights problems of translation in art’s dialogue
with pornography and eroticism, taste and class.
© 1999 Paul O'Kane