– Illustrated images by Robert Cook –

Don’t Show Me Your Poetry // Robert Cook (Interview)

As the curator of the annual Octopus group show at Gertrude Contemporary Art Space, Robert Cook is not shy about the fact that he loves his inner geek.  “Don’t Show me Your Poetry” is largely an extension of those unexplored, sentimental territories inherent in all of us. Robert reveals his thoughts on pop music, comics, art, sensitivity and our obsession with youth. Words // Annie Wu

///////////////////////

What do you get up to in Perth?

My day job is as an associate curator of contemporary art at the Art Gallery of Western Australia. I’ve done shows on the work of artists like John Nixon, Max Pam, Brent Harris, as well as group shows like Raised by Wolves and mix tape. I’m currently working on a Roger Ballen Photography show which I’m really excited about, called ‘Brutal, Tender, Human, Animal’. Roger is a seriously hot artist. He’s from South Africa and completely unflinching. Brilliant. At nights I write a lot and try figure out how to do more of that, how to publish in different spaces and do more artist collaborations.

Tell me a little about this year’s Octopus show?

The show is about process, about things not being fixed, about stuff that could still be anything at all. It’s about the stuff that usually goes hidden, or repressed. Hence, in an oddball way, the title is – ‘Don’t Show Me Your Poetry’. Yet it’s not just about dredging up matter from the subconscious, it’s about practices that exist in the public sphere while retaining a deep sense of provisionality (if that’s a word) and mutability.

Do you think there’s a danger in placing so much content emphasis on the ‘personal’?

Yeah, but only because it seems to rub people up the wrong way. Work with an emphasis on the personal tends to be seen as juvenile or un-serious. But for me, I’m really interested in doing stuff – shows, writing – that has personal heat. You should feel a strong voice that you can relate to in some way that moves you or pushes you. In this way it could be seen as being similar to fiction or pop music. I’d love for art to be seen more and more in that kind of context rather than in quasi-academic ways. It seems to me that so much street/popular art succeeds because it has a strong personal voice that you can engage with. I just love that, it feels real to me.

It’s interesting that you have chosen such a diverse range of artists working in various mediums, including publishers and writers. How do you think these publishing and writing practices can be understood and translated in a fine art context?

I don’t know if publishing and writing needs to be translated at all. Both are visual. Both are about reading. And we have been reading art since forever, since it began, whenever that was. I just feel that we’ve really moved beyond any meaningful distinctions between modes of practices. The great thing about working in and with galleries is that they are available for all sorts of experiences – from visual, to musical, to literary. Galleries are catch-alls. In galleries we are open to experiences (as visitors) and there is stuff that our bodies and senses respond to. Our bodies and senses remember, or don’t remember.

Can you remember some of your earliest experiences with expressive mediums such as music, comics etc.? And how did you initially engage with that culture?

When I was about 14 I started to listen to music really seriously. That was 1984, and I loved Hunters & Collectors so much! They were great at that time. Seriously! I wanted to be John Archer, the bass player, but my parents made me learn classical guitar instead. I never progressed much from there. But I started listening to PIL, and then so called ‘indie’ stuff in general. I have a big, big, thing for the Go Betweens.

I’ve always loved comics. I am of the Casper the friendly Ghost, Richie Rich, Scrooge McDuck, Mad and Cracked generation, they were early loves. Over the last couple of decades I’ve been into more interesting stuff. I love Jay Stephens, Adrian Tomine, Dan Clowes, Jeffery Brown, even John Porcolino. I drew early on, and still draw every day, pretty much.

You must have had a very memorable childhood! I think I spent more time removing myself from my teenage years because listening to indie music now only brings back memories of the alienation and social awkwardness.

My childhood was super regular. Still, I was a big sulky, shy boy too. And indie music always taps into that. It’s fun to be an adult and get back into that groove again. It is like fuel for stuff. It adds a personalized romantic haze over the world that helps you to take your fantasies and posturing seriously enough to do something with them in the real world.

What do you think is the male preoccupation with ‘youth’?

As a kid all the bands I dug were that bit older than me, and it was like they were making model societies in their line-ups. It was a social thing and it was like a perfect way to be, something to aspire to when I grew up. Now listening to pop seems to be something that continues to open up all these possible social futures and lost histories. It is like youth is simply a way of being open to the idea that new things, new models of living are still possible. I believe they still are, and if this is a type of “preoccupation with youth” then I reckon it’s a profound and creative and great thing.

What exciting discoveries have you made recently?

Well, each time I open Kramer’s ‘Ergot’ I am excited. It’s weird cause he’s well known, but I feel like Josh is an exciting discovery to me, because he still feels new and fresh and unpredictable. Plus, the writing of Amanda Maxwell, which I featured in Octopus. That was very new to me, only a month or so before the show opened, and it felt so clean and open and beautiful. I am behind the times I know but I just bought the Sun Kill Moon album ‘Tiny Cities’ and each song is exciting to me! I love Mark Kozelek so much! By not worrying so much about keeping up with things, I have new discoveries that are new to me but old to others every day!

What would your hypothetical future be if you weren’t an curator?

My office mate asked me a similar question yesterday. I had no occupation ready, just an image of a work place with beanbags and a coffee machine. And maybe we’d write some ads, a screenplay, an episode of something or other. Maybe we’d publish a monograph with a poster in the middle. I realise, after having done far too much study of an isolating sort (MA, PhD. etc, yuck!), being a curator is great for me. It is just a matter of getting the balance right between personal creative projects and those for other people basically. Both are truly wonderful and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I do however feel that comedy is the most important genre in the world so I would like to do something in that, as a writer I guess. In fact, if I don’t I would feel I have failed to heed my calling as a human being. I’d better get on to that I guess. Time is ticking…