Chris Sharratt

May 1

Glasgow International Festival of Visual Art 2012

Art you can play with, art you can bounce on, art you can take home for three days and put on your wall (or in your DVD player, or on your mantelpiece). You don’t have to look far at Glasgow International (GI) to find work that’s hands-on and playful – but that’s only part of the story.

The bouncing is courtesy of Jeremy Deller on Glasgow Green – the city’s oldest and most central public park. ‘Sacrilege’ is a life-size replica of Stonehenge, bouncy castle-style. It’s a celebration of play and letting go, for children and grown-ups alike. But it could also be about Britishness and identity and what it all means – or doesn’t. It’s the kind of clever, socially-engaged idea that has become Deller’s trademark.

The open, public nature of ‘Sacrilege’ sets the tone for a festival that, on the whole, is good-natured, giving and rooted in human experience. Rooted in the city, too – many of the featured artists are based in or have strong links with Glasgow.

In ‘Dialogue of Hands’, an outside sculpture park at Glasgow City College, we’re invited to touch, walk on and play with the work of Corin Sworn, Mary Redmond, Camilla Løw and Chris Johanson. The spirit of 1960s social and artistic experimentation is writ large here, although, for adults at least, the idea is possibly more engaging than the reality.

At the festival Hub, Rosalind Nashashibi presents her new film ‘Lovely Young People (Beautiful Supple Bodies)’, a co-commission with Scottish Ballet. Shot on 16mm film, dancers practice their steps while a variety of spectators – mums and dads, siblings, a gaggle of delightful old ladies, a couple of mesmerised policemen – look on. We can hear and see the physical effort of the dancers, feel the heat and energy. It’s intimate, witty and surprisingly moving.

Over at the neoclassical Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA), Karla Black has filled the ground floor gallery with 17 tonnes of sawdust, arranged in layers like some vast sponge cake. It fits snugly in the centre of the space, between the building’s Corinthian columns. Cellophane and sticky tape, twisted together to make swags and daubed in gold paint, hang from the ceiling. The materials are familiar to Black's work, but the effect is fresh and, despite its scale, respectful – reverential, even – of its setting.

Not so Rob Kennedy at the Centre for Contemporary Arts. He’s reconfigured gallery spaces, hacked holes in walls and used the debris to build a rickety tower for video monitors. He asks in the show’s title, ‘Is there anything to do here, is there anything to see?’ It sounds like a wind up, but the answer is, of course, ‘Yes’: Kennedy's own video works are dotted about the galleries and in the small cinema, presented alongside pieces by other artists, including a small, malevolently dark painting by Walter Sickert, ‘Jack The Ripper’s Bedroom’.

Nestled discretely in the intimate Italian Gallery of Kelvingrove Museum is more recent art history, courtesy of *Richard Wright*. Best known for his temporary wall paintings, here we’re treated to a retrospective of his works on paper. Displayed in the manner of a busy, Victorian art museum – minus the chunky gold frames – they are intricate and labour intensive explorations of pattern and image making; quietly powerful, they speak in hushed tones.

At the tiny Kendall Koppe gallery, Emory Douglas, former Minister of Culture for the Black Panther party, is most definitely shouting, loud and clear. He presents a small selection of 1960s propaganda images, as they appeared in the Black Panther newspapers of the time. These calls for righteous retribution against the white ‘pigs’ were real and heartfelt, intended for the street rather than the art gallery. Framing the actual newspaper pages emphasises their place in history.

There are other lessons in history, too. At The Modern Institute, ‘If you don’t like this book you don’t like me’ reveals the fraught contents of influential American artist Paul Thek’s notebooks, presented under glass in museum cases. Thek died of AIDS in 1988, a marginalised figure after making a significant, and often disruptive, impact in the 1960s and 1970s. There are a small number of his paintings and a film, too. It’s a lovingly assembled and utterly absorbing show.

South of the Clyde, in the Charles Rennie Mackintosh-designed Scotland Street School Museum (a history lesson in itself), Ruth Ewan presents a fascinating sift through the archives of Glasgow’s Socialist Sunday School movement. On my visit, a socialist magician was in full swing – Marx’s theory of value with added laughs.

At Tramway, it’s the sideshows rather than the main events that are most satisfying. Moyra Davey’s Les Goddesses, in which the artist recounts the life story of Mary Wollstonecraft while pacing around her flat, is a simply-staged but captivating hour; Redmond Entwistle’s film about the California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) offers an intriguing insight into the institutionalisation of ideas.

Tramway’s main space is filled by Kelly Nipper’s 'Black Forest', an installation involving masked dancers and a large curtain that divides the gallery. There are monochrome patterns on the white walls and cushions on the floor. It’s light and breezy and a little inconsequential.

More engaging is Wolfgang Tillmans at The Common Guild, particularly the installation upstairs. There’s photographs of varying sizes, from a tiny black and white image of a tree canopy to a large and curiously disorientating picture of a silverskin onion. Curvy close-ups of car headlights snake up the stairwell, there's an angrily frothing waterfall, a gruesome-looking surgical procedure, a solemn gathering of Maasai people. Pictures are displayed on doors, in corners, at different heights – it’s almost as if they’re observing us rather than the other way round.

That onion picture would look fantastic in my living room, but sadly Tillmans isn’t part of the Art Lending Library at The Mitchell Library. My membership number is 018. So, what to borrow? Joanne Tatham and Tom O’Sullivan’s shoes perhaps, or David Sherry’s Andy Kaufman picture? Or maybe that Peter Evans lithograph or Bill Drummond’s Golden Syrup tin? So much to think about, so much to enjoy, so much to engage with – the GI experience in a nutshell, in fact.

Glasgow International Festival of Visual Art continues until 7th May. This review only includes a small selection of the shows happening throughout GI. For more information visit glasgowinternational.org

Image: Jeremy Deller, Sacrilege, 2012, Courtesy of the artist. Photo: Angela Catlin

Apr 19

Haroon Mirza makes sound with vision at Spike Island

Haroon Mirza’s work hovers between sound and vision, sculpture and music, analogue and digital. It attempts, as the artist describes, to create ‘one sensorial mode of perception’. This exhibition at Spike Island operates within a series of clearly defined spaces, using a number of different processes and forms to achieve a kind of sonic alchemy. Here, sound is a physical presence.

In ‘The national apavilion of then and now’ (2011), first seen at last year’s Venice Biennale, we’re plunged into darkness in a triangular, echo-free chamber. A suspended halo of white LEDs is connected to an amplifier, the varying brightness of the light affecting the pitch and volume of what is essentially an electrical current rendered in sound. It’s an odd, mildly disorientating experience.

The barely-lit main gallery space feature’s the installation, ‘I saw a square triangle sine’ (2011), which includes paintings (1998) by the late Angus Fairhurst. A drum kit sits on a low ‘stage’ in the centre of the room. A synthesizer drones; a transistor radio spins on a turntable as it emits white noise into a microphone; an LED sign flashes messages. We are invited to bang hell out the drums if we want to.

Contrastingly, the next space is light and quiet and clad in soundproof blue foam. It creates a calming place in which to view a selection of drawings that show the process of thinking and construction behind Mirza’s sculptural work – this is where the Arduino board goes, link this monitor to that DVD player, put the speaker here.

The room also creates a sound buffer before reaching ‘Untitled Song featuring Untitled Works by James Clarkson’ (2012), a collection of sculptures that combine retro, found furniture with disembodied speakers, bits of drum kit, wires and more LEDs. A kind of minimalist, dischordant symphony in six sections stops and starts, pops and thumps.

Back in the foyer, three TV screens of varying sizes and age sit on top of each other. It’s nighttime and it’s raining and we can see a lit-up Tesco sign viewed through the windscreen of a car. The wipers are on intermittent – when they swish, another screen fuzzes and crackles and the image changes.

Is the sound dictating the visuals or the visuals dictating the sound? Or are we in that somewhere in-between that Mirza refers to, the distinctions between sight and sound having dissolved? The process of exploring this possibility is a worthwhile and pleasingly disorientating one.

Originally published on Creative Times, February 12, 2012

Nov 18

Turner Prize 2011

Queues snaking out of the door, a one out/one in entrance policy, tannoy announcements declaring the exhibition full – the ability of the Turner Prize to whip up some excitement around contemporary art appears to be as strong as ever. Hosted this year by a non-Tate venue for the first time, at Gateshead’s BALTIC the four nominees get a room apiece to showcase their pleasingly different work.

Boyce’s installations are often described as melancholic, but at BALTIC the feeling is optimistic, as if a weight’s been lifted. A ceiling piece of hundreds of white aluminium fins sets the tone, a geometric cloud hovering above the space, light filtering through the man-made cumulus. At ground level, brown leaves made from paraffin-coated crepe paper gather in corners and around the room’s edges.

There are white, patterned ventilation grills, fixed low down on each wall; an oddly-angled steel litter bin with a hoodie as an ill-fitting bin bag; a library table with mysterious letters, derived from a font created by the artist, carved into its wooden top. Things are all mixed up in this autumnal wonderland; inside/outside, nature/urban, functional/decorative, above/below. It is beguiling and beautiful.

Black creates the kind of landscape you might find in a children’s story book, a world of paper caves, pastel paints and powdery splashes of colour. It’s art as escapism, everyday materials transformed into barely-there sculptures. It strikes a fun, playful note.

While Boyce’s rigorous approach leaves nothing to chance, fellow Glasgow sculptor Karla Black favours spontaneity and lightness, ephemerality over permanence. From the materials used – crumpled paper, sellotape, crushed chalk, cellophane, bath bombs – to the precarious construction, her installation is delicate and chaotic, a splurge of thinking and doing.

There’s not much fun on view in George Shaw’s flat and sombre paintings, although some of the titles, such as Landscape with Dog Shit Bin, do raise a smile. Shaw’s subject matter is the council estate on the outskirts of Coventry where he grew up. He paints it using Humbrol enamels, intended for Airfix models rather than fine art. ‘Humble paints,’ says Shaw. All the better for the mundane scenes he feels compelled to document.

Everything here appears broken, unloved; shops are shuttered, pubs derelict. There are no people in these paintings, yet their lives are ever-present. Something’s been lost, memories blurred and confused by the passing of time. ‘I’m painting my journey out of this life,’ says Shaw. The big, inescapable issues of life and death rendered in modeling paint.

If Shaw’s materials are humble, Hilary Lloyd’s are a bit on the flash side. Her video installations involve expensive-looking LCD screens, DVD players and projectors, often mounted on intrusive metal columns. Her work is all about the process of looking, of seeing things differently. (As if to remind us that it’s the looking that counts, her room features floor-to-ceiling windows with a great view over the Tyne.)

With Lloyd’s work you strain your eyes and think, ‘What is that?’ Moon involves two vertical screens, each divided into 21 squares in which multiple moons and a clock tower jiggle and dance. Floor is just that, three slightly wobbly films of floorboards projected side-by-side. There’s a black shape – a shadow perhaps, or part of a chair? – that you can’t quite make out. Give it some time and the straining pays off.

Who will win on 5th December? The highlight of this show is Martin Boyce’s contemplative, modernist-inspired environment; the crowds at BALTIC will be gunning for bookies’ favourite George Shaw. Both would be worthy winners.

The Turner Prize 2011 show continues at BALTIC, Gateshead, until 8th Jan, 2012.

This review was originally published by Creative Times.

Image: Martin Boyce installation, photograph by Colin Davison

Filed under // BALTIC George Shaw Hilary Lloyd Karla Black Martin Boyce Turner Prize 2011

Oct 13

Bloomberg New Contemporaries 2011

Group shows can be tricky and unwieldy things. Tricky because their job is to bring together work that was conceived separately, and unwieldy for the simple reason of numbers; in this case, 40 artists ranged across two venues.

Selected from the submissions of final year undergraduates, current postgraduates of Fine Art at UK colleges and 2010 graduates, New Contemporaries is potentially trickier than most. These are, after all, artists who are mostly just starting out, relatively unversed in the whys and wherefores of exhibiting work.

At least that’s one way of looking at it. In fact, while the art chosen by selectors Pablo Bronstein, Sarah Jones and Michael Raedecker buzzes with the energy of youth, it also possesses real maturity. It is thoughtful, playful and enquiring, art that starts a conversation rather than states a fact. In a reflection, perhaps, of the changing nature of art education in the UK, it is also pleasingly international – after Britain, Korea is the most well represented country with five artists.

At Site Gallery things are tightly packed and the mood is intense, but it works. Poppy Whatmore’s customised metal-framed table greets you as you walk in, one of its legs cocked thanks to some precision sawing and the addition of hinges. There’s a TV on the floor, a Mondrian-style assemblage on the wall, and what’s that scraping and knocking noise, like someone making hard work of opening a can of lager – oh, that’s exactly what it is.

In Samuel Williams’ video We are the Robots, some joker’s taped a pair of pliers to a piece of wood and is clumsily attempting to get hold of the ring pull on a can. Now he’s bashing nails into potatoes, sawing a Swiss Roll and making a cake tower. And who’s that on the wall over there, a riot of oil paint almost obscuring his familiar face? Rafal Zawistowski’s Jesus Christ is a benign, confused figure, a delicate yellow halo hovering above his head, confirming his godliness but not his authority.

Layers of tactile oil paint give way to a smooth, too perfect sheen in Marie Angeletti’s C-Type prints. They tantalise with their seductiveness, but there’s something discomfiting about them too, something not quite right. Sarah Brown’s pencil drawings on paper are a striking contrast. Small, delicate and unadorned, these uncomplicated pictures of door handles and cupboards somehow find anxiety and tension in everyday mundanity. Is everything quite as it seems?

Ian Marshall’s Berkeley Blooms video begs the same question. Violent explosions are taken out of context and arranged into patterns, the result a kind of horrible beauty, a hellish cacophony. Destruction shouldn’t be this engrossing. Just as mesmerising is Jessica Sarah Rinland’s 16mm film about Nulepsy – the involuntary desire to strip naked. A narrator solemnly recounts his experiences as a lifelong sufferer, an old man skateboards down a country lane in the nude, and a much younger model takes his clothes off in a green house. It’s a touchingly realised conceit, but what’s real here and who’s acting? And does such a condition even exist? Google it and see.

Film makes up nearly a third of the work displayed in New Contemporaries, and across town at S1 Artspace, Se-jin Kim swaps woozy 16mm for HD video in his two-screen installation, Night Worker. A young man and woman, a screen each, forlornly make their way to work. They look tired before they even start, worn out by the daily grind. There is nothing heroic here, just boredom and drudgery, but that hasn’t stopped the artist creating a beautiful, highly stylised evocation of modern life.

Yelena Popova’s Unnamed is not as visually compelling, but it is packed with content. Her ten-minute film about a secret, almost hidden Russian town created in the Soviet era, combines old cine-camera and newsreel footage with recently-shot video of the town. It’s her questioning voice-over though that keeps you watching.

In Georgina McNamara’s quite beautiful black and white photograph, the idea of being hidden is made personal. A woman, possibly naked, is ‘clothed’ in a large, conical-shaped tube, only the back of her bare legs and feet showing. Is she hiding something or burying her head in the sand, creeping up or sneaking away?

There’s such a confidence, a clarity, about so much of the work in this show. But there’s also a deft curatorial touch on display, making a virtue out of the split venues and the right choices when it comes to displaying work. So, tricky to pull off, but it seems that when old hands and New Contemporaries get together, great things can happen.

Bloomberg New Contemporaries continues at Site Gallery and S1 Artspace until Nov 5. It then transfers to ICA, Nov 23 to Jan 2012

This piece was commissioned by and originally published on www.axisweb.org

Jul 26

The Life and Death of Marina Abramovic

Marina Abramovic has not so much drawn upon life for her art as make her own life the subject. Her experiences are at the centre of what she creates; her 2010 career retrospective, The Artist is Present at MoMA, New York, saw her sitting passively every day for nearly three months, with visitors invited to sit silently across from her.

Biography, then, is important to her, and The Life and Death of Marina Abramovic is the sixth time since 1989 that she has been involved in biographical theatre.

As marks the recent rise in her pop-cultural presence, with even Lady Gaga namechecking her, this is the most starry, high profile biography yet. Directed by New York avant-garde theatre legend Robert Wilson, it features a star turn by Hollywood royalty Willem Dafoe and music by Antony Hegarty.

Abramovic describes the process of creating the show as giving up control, of handing the material to a director to do as he will. It’s fitting then that, while her presence is constant throughout, both physically and in the meandering narrative thread, she does not dominate the stage.

That role goes to Willem Dafoe, a babbling, cackling, crazed narrator with a painted face and soldier’s uniform. He reels off dates and corresponding key events in Abramovic’s life, building a picture of parental abuse – in particular from her mother, played by Abramovic – and bouts of adult depression. Being Marina doesn’t sound much fun.

Yet for all the psychological warfare and routine violence on display, there’s a dark humour and sense of the absurd throughout. The choreography scurries between graceful and slapstick, the costumes are often bright and witty, the set half minimalist chic, half kids’ cartoon.

Hegarty’s music – a mix of ethereal soundscapes, skittering electronics and a live band – cajoles and caresses throughout. Occasionally he sings himself, drifting on stage in a long black dress and looking something like a cross between Queen Victoria and a Dalek.

But it’s Dafoe who holds the whole thing together, bringing a kind of order and momentum to this jolting, chaotic and always captivating spectacle.

The Life and Death of Marina Abramovic continues at The Lowry, Salford Quays, until July 16. mif.co.uk

Originally published July 12, 2011 on www.creativetimes.co.uk

Jul 26

The Hepworth Wakefield

<p>Director's Cut #5: Simon Wallis, The Hepworth Wakefield from Creative Times on Vimeo.</p>

Simon Wallis is running on adrenaline, fired up with enthusiasm, buzzing on the long hours and hard work.

Well, wouldn’t you be if you were heading up a brand new £35million art gallery, designed by an internationally-renowned architect and celebrating the work of one of the UK’s most influential 20th century artists?

As busy as he is, Wallis is warm, chatty and pleasingly unconventional. He has the look of a man who views wearing a jacket and tie as an acceptable compromise; a man whose passion is art but who also relishes the logistical, strategic and political challenges that being director of a gallery such as The Hepworth entails.

This is a building loaded with expectations, and while architectural plaudits and glowing exhibition reviews are of course in the mix, they’re part of a much bigger picture.

There is a lot at stake. For Wakefield’s solidly-Labour council, The Hepworth is no less than the West Yorkshire city’s Guggenheim Bilbao. It’s the anchor point for a £100million regeneration project conceived in a rather more buoyant economic climate.

Yes, there will be great art presented in the exquisite white spaces of this daring building, but, well, it’s also about the (local) economy, stupid.

A big job then, and a world away from the Chisenhale Gallery, where Wallis was director before moving from London in June 2008.

A converted 1930s factory in the East End, Chisenhale focuses on artists at a formative stage in their career.

By sharp contrast, The Hepworth draws heavily from the city’s extensive collection of 20th century art and features over 40 pieces by Wakefield-born sculptor Barbara Hepworth. The largest purpose-built gallery outside London, its ten galleries boast a combined floor space of 1600 sq metres.

And yet Wallis is determined to build a bridge between the art of the 20th century and architecture of the 21st.

He’s well qualified to do so, having worked with permanent collections as a curator at Kettle’s Yard, Cambridge and Tate Liverpool, before becoming Senior Exhibitions Organiser at theICA. He wants The Hepworth to have the feel of a lively contemporary art space, a social hub rather than a reverential museum.

David Chipperfield’s building helps considerably with this. Wallis clearly loves it, talking of its sculptural qualities, of it being designed from the inside out with art in mind. And while its brutalist concrete exterior will continue to divide opinion, its first-floor galleries are a revelation.

A delightful conundrum of sloping ceilings and unusual angles, many of the spaces are drenched in natural light. “The best suite of gallery spaces in the UK,” says Wallis. He’s probably right.

Chipperfield has created a building that embraces rather than overpowers the art within it. Its combination of large, airy galleries and more intimate spaces is perfect for the breadth of Hepworth work on display.

It also allows for the kind of large-scale contemporary sculpture made by an artist such as Eva Rothschild, whose Hot Touch is the opening temporary exhibition.

“I think a contemporary programme is a vital part of the offer here,” says Wallis, who has given over three of the ten galleries to new work.

Barbara Hepworth’s beguiling sculptures, the best in contemporary art, a landmark building from an in-demand architect at the height of his powers; some things really are worth putting on a jacket and tie for.

Originally published May 20, 2011 on www.creativetimes.co.uk and www.axisweb.org

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May 4

Welcome to the Neighbourhood

“We call ourselves The Neighbourhood to reflect our aspiration to build a place rather than a company,” explains Ben Davies, Managing Director and Creative Partner of The Neighbourhood.

The Neighbourhood has done just that to stunning effect with its HQ, which occupies the top floor of a former Victorian warehouse in Manchester’s Northern Quarter.

It’s a lovely, light-filled, open-plan space brimming with character, from the Pie, Chips and Peas door mats at the threshhold of its three glass-fronted meeting rooms, to the reception area featuring childhood photos of all the staff.

And then there’s the big red cartoon cut-out of a double-decker bus that greets you on arrival. A day at the office was never meant to be this much fun.

Davies, along with The Neighbourhood's three co-founders, trained as an architect, and the office design is all their own work. It’s practical but homely, warm but functional, playful but productive. There is, after all, work to be done.

Davies resists being pigeonholed as a digital agency, and with good reason. Preferring the description “creative agency and production house”, the digital environment is just one area the company works in.

Yet it’s in part due to its eclectic portfolio that we felt The Neighbourhood was so appropriate to start this series of short films about digital creativity in the North.

Whether it’s working with Heston Blumenthal on an imaginative pre-dining experience for Fat Duck customers, finding innovative ways to promote apartments for Urban Splash, or creating an ad for the Lexus Hybrid, The Neighbourhood has a knack of bringing to life the limitless, 'who knows what’s round the corner' excitement of the digital environment.

We think The Neighbourhood is a great place to be. You’re going to like it round here.

www.the-neighbourhood.com

Originally published on www.creativetimes.co.uk

Mar 2

Brains, brawn and BALTIC

There’s nothing shy about BALTIC. It’s big, bold and a little bit brassy. It makes a noise in the landscape, standing tall and proud amongst the iconic architecture that surrounds it. A contemporary art gallery with brawn as well as brains.

That brawn has come in handy since it opened in a blur of publicity in 2002; the gallery has, after all, had its fair share of hard knocks.

Current director Godfrey Worsdale, who took the job in August 2008, is the gallery’s fourth. For a while, it seemed as if the role came with some kind of ancient curse that couldn’t be shaken.

Founding director Sune Nordgren left a year after BALTIC opened amid complaints that the gallery’s finances were in disarray.

His replacement Stephen Snoddy resigned after less than a year, following his suspension while the Metropolitan police investigated an allegation of assault. No charges were ever made and Snoddy is now director of New Art Gallery Walsall.

Snoddy’s successor Peter Doroshenko lasted longer, leaving in November 2007, but his management style prompted bitter complaints from BALTIC staff. His artistic judgement was also questioned after the gallery hosted a Beryl Cook retrospective on his watch.

So, big job, big gallery, big personality required? You’d think so.

Worsdale, previously founding director of the Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art, has, you sense, the strength of character and determination required for such a high profile role.

His first move on starting at BALTIC was to address what he saw as a top-heavy management structure, resulting in job losses at a senior level.

Yet, despite the cropped hair and business suit, Worsdale is no financial hard man leaving the artistic vision to others. While the exhibition programme is looked after by BALTIC’s curatorial team, his passion for contemporary art is tangible.

Prior to our on-camera interview, he smiles broadly as he talks about his time as curator and then director at Southampton City Art Gallery (1995-2002) and specifically working on a Martin Creed exhibition; it resulted in the artist being nominated for, and ultimately winning, the 2001 Turner Prize.

Worsdale chats excitedly about how the Turner Prize brings contemporary art out of the galleries and into the pages of the tabloids, and his delight at BALTIC hosting the prize’s exhibition this year. He’s serious about art but not too serious; he recognizes that it can also be playful and humorous.

After everything that BALTIC has been through in its short life, Worsdale seems a good fit. A northerner (he’s from Doncaster); a people person with a light touch; a good talker; a believer in audiences as well as artists.

Pragmatic when it comes to finances, he’s sure-footed and principled about BALTIC’s job of promoting the understanding and enjoyment of great art.

Which brings us to the second thing Worsdale did when he took up the job. In a bid to emphasise the importance of the visitor experience, all staff who dealt with the public – gallery invigilators, front of house – were moved from building services or security or whatever department they had been part of, to education.

That, reasoned Worsdale, is what they’re there for, to communicate ideas and information, to enhance the gallery-goers experience.

Brain to think it, brawn to do it. BALTIC might just have its man this time.

This article and video is #2 in The Director’s Cut series, a collaboration between Axis and Creative Times, originally published January 2011.