James Kalm takes dogonaut for a walk through his world...
Kalm Sees: The Half-assed Beginnings of the "Kalm Report"
by James Kalm
Videographer, sheez, the whole idea makes me chortle and roll my eyes. As a painter who's been working in New York for nearly thirty years, I usually run in the opposite direction when I see an "artsy video" displayed in a gallery setting. In fact, while waiting for a consultation with the late galleriest Holly Solomon, I endured a prolonged exposure to videos by Nam June Paik which induced one of the two super migraine headaches I've had in my life and, with the exception of some video works by William Kentridge and Matthew Barney, I've pretty much always considered myself first and foremost a painting snob.
Things started to change in the mid nineties. Frustrated with the seeming lack of insight regarding the practice of painting being proffered by the "New York art critical establishment", I took the desperate step of trying to write art criticism myself. My goals were to focus on those artists at the margins, the young, old, or oddball who couldn't break through the formidable barriers shielding the culturally elite cliques that were dictating who is and isn't "SEEN". Documenting this community, much of it located in and around Williamsburg, Brooklyn, became a passion. In 2000 I joined the staff of the illustrious Brooklyn Rail which at the time was just beginning publication.
As a tool for critical reference I constantly carried a camera with me not only to record works of art, but the artists, dealers, collectors, critics and settings as well. Over time I began to catalogue thousands of artists and exhibitions, attempting to create a vast database of images of the New York art scene. With an appreciation of art history, I'd always loved those candid photos taken at the openings of the founders of the New York School, the snapshots of de Kooning and Kline on 57th Street with Ruth Klingman, or Jackson Pollock looking sheepish at Peggy Guggenheim's Art of This Century. Like the David Hemmings character in the Antonioni film "Blowup", I'd study these artifacts with a magnifying glass, looking for hints to the mystery of art.
About three years ago I finally went digital. Because I'm usually riding my bike, I needed something small and rugged, bullet proof as I like to say, and I settled on a Canon SD 110, a digital Elf. I was happy taking thousands of regular photos adding them to the files on my computer. Then one day I switched the function knob on the back of the camera and accidentally took my first eight second video. Watching it I laughed. It was funny. What a fortuitous goof.
Still it wasn't until about a year ago that it dawned on me that this video function could be of use in my project to document and expose the people and happenings in the art world. Living in New York, one of the most vibrant art capitals of the world, with decades of experience and friendships, I'm able to capture people and events that I'm hoping might be of some interest, both artistic and historical.
With the help of my son, I was able to upload a couple of short videos onto YouTube. Since then it's been an embarrassing case of learning to make videos in public.
As a person who's committed not only to art but to the people and relationships that constitute the art world, it's my hope that the "Kalm Report" will widen the spectrum of art seen by the public, that it will give viewers an insight into some of the behind the scenes action. With minimal writing and planning, and the most basic equipment and editing programs, I'm hoping to capture something of the funky "raw" nature of what's happening right here, right now. It would even be a pleasant bonus if educators could use these videos to expose their students to "real" art. After all, we are our own art history.
So there you have it, this is James Kalm reporting on the half-assed beginnings of the "Kalm Report".