“They say I shot a man named Lee… and took his wife to Italy. She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me… I can’t help it if I’m lucky…”

Possibly not the most orthodox mode of correspondence, however, the lyrics to Bob Dylan’s Idiot Wind only begins to scratch the surface of the cryptic nuances that shaped an equally unorthodox interview with appropriation artist, Richard Prince.

Renowned for his somewhat cannibalistic coveting of advertised images, his given title ‘Father of Appropriation Art’ (interpreted by Prince through an equally musical reference as “sounding like the Tombstone Blues”) was facilitated by a move to New York in 1977. Integrated into an art scene bathing in the bright light of artists such as Robert Rauschenberg and Andy Warhol, Prince explains his reasons for moving to New York: “I wanted to be part of a soap opera. I wanted to go to the ballet. I wanted to sleep all day. I wanted to live in a neighborhood that had three or four bars on the block. I wanted to talk to other artists.”

The slightly more conventional working environment afforded by a job in the tear-sheets department at Time-Life in New York, described by Prince as “like living in a giant novel”, prompted one of his most acclaimed, visually stunning and controversial works, Cowboys. An iconic example of Prince’s re-photographic approach, he plays surrogate to photographs taken for the advertisements of Marlboro cigarettes. Canvases densely populated by 10 gallon hats, spurs and lassoes cleverly evoke yet criticize the stereotypical notions of ‘the cowboy’. This is a view Prince seems to share in his ambigious and bizarre yet somehow rational description of them: “I shot the sheriff… it’s like driving an RV… always on vacation, under the stars, cups of coffee. I’ve always been partial to a good rodeo.”

Despite this being the spark of an ever burning criticism of Prince’s work under copyright laws, the emancipated Marlboro man broke records in 2005 when, without the constraints of cigarette packets and billboards, Untitled from Cowboys sold for over $1 million at auction.

The peculiar normality and relatable innocence of Prince’s comment on how he began getting into photography, “I brought my mother’s camera to Woodstock…” is reflected in his transitory description of photography to painting. This is embodied in his Joke paintings, “The Jokes became the first subject for my paintings. I thought it was a pretty radical subject matter and it needed a traditional presentation, canvas stretchers and paint”. Comedic lines spiked with satire of everyday existence recollect parody in their creation. “I started drawing ‘cartoons’ that I found in magazines. For about a year. Then I dropped the image and concentrated on the punchline.”

But it seemed Prince could not remove himself from appropriated authorship entirely. The Nurse Paintings provide a particularly macabre example of his photographic surrogacy. This time Prince has adopted the covers of pulp romance novels resulting in 42 canvases covered in drippings of red and slashes of white. The ominous and menacing nature of these works hark back to cult 70’s slasher movies.

In 2007 Prince collabrated with Marc Jacobs and the fashion house Louis Vuitton to create a range of handbags which marked a fusion of art, design and commerce. Prince explains: “I had no idea how important hand-bags were in the world. For me they became small buildings… It’s interesting to see one of my handbags in a restaurant or someone walking down the street carrying it on their shoulder.”

It is often the case that this kind of controversy and modern art are well suited. The excitement and media frenzy caused by the former often enhances the reputation of the latter – or at the very least force it into a tacky day-glo spotlight. Richard Prince is no exception. In 1983 Prince re-photographed an image of ten year old Brooke Shields, who was naked from the knee up, slicked in what looks like baby oil and dolled up like a drag queen. To describe the work as disturbing does not do it justice. The image was originally taken by the fashion photographer Gary Gross, and was later re-titled by Prince as Spiritual America. This work was recently removed from the Tate Modern’s Pop Life exhibition by the Obscene Publications Unit of the Metropolitan Police. This was a controversial decision, as a 2.5 x 1.5m silk screen of porn star Ilona Satller’s anus stands proudly in an adjoining room. However, this reflects the contentious nature of the image. After all, a photograph which could possibly be percieved as child pornography is likely to cause an outcry.

When asked for his opinion on the situation, Prince retorted with the aforementioned Bob Dylan song lyrics which commenced the article. Prince is ever so enigmatic. I can’t help but wonder whether the lyrics to Idiot Wind refer to his lucky appropriation of the photograph. The original image was sold for $300 and Prince made just over $151,000 at auction – a tidy profit. The quite blatant associations of the songs title, just reflect furthermore his elusive personality and eccentricity. As far as Spiritual America’s meaning goes, I feel myself concurring with Prince’s own interpretation, it is “the last place on earth God didn’t finish”.

Controversial but always relevant, Richard Prince’s appropriated art simultaneously celebrates and demonizes modern culture. An appropriate end, his equivocal musings on an iconic cultural phenomenon: The American Dream? “To sing the Star Spangled Banner sitting down.”

Debuting in 2002 with an exhibition of paintings, t-shirts and lists entitled The New American Dream in Duke University USA, Ken Courtney emerged into the New York art market with pieces primarily addressing “the commodification of celebrity”. His renowned Star Fucker tees, claiming the wearer had slept with a number of well known celebrities such as Paris Hilton, gained him a memorable if somewhat notorious reputation. He has recieved a cease and desist letter after producing a t-shirt printed ‘I fucked The Strokes’ and he has just been placed on legal notice by the McDonalds co-operation. However, as Courtney explains, “others spend time with innuendo about sex, drugs and desire, my work addresses it head on.”

Courtney’s satire on consumer materialism continued to expand into the creation of his brand name. ‘Ju$t Another Rich Kid’ exists for Courtney as a cross between a brand name and alter ego, inspired by “pop culture, music and consumer culture”.

With the creation of Ju$t Another Rich Kid, Courtney’s work portfolio grew to an eclectic mix of couture, sculpture, and printing often fuelled by a fixation with a certain media or method: “I’m very obsessive about things. When I get into something I get consumed by it.”

One of the most striking and controversial examples of Courtney’s work is his collaboration with Brooklyn based artist and designer Tobias Wong in the creation of the Indulgences series. The work compromises 14ct gold plated items, including a McDonalds coffee stirrer, banned in the late 1970s with the discovery that people were using it to take cocaine and a pair of Nike trainers dipped in 24ct gold (on sale for £2700). Courtney explains, “I thought of making a line of completely indulgent, useless but functional items for someone who has so much money they could buy something like a gold replica of a McDonalds coffee stirrer to use as a coke spoon.”
Whether a clever commentary on the wounds materialism has inflicted or just an example of extreme consumer indulgence, Ken Courtney’s objects of celebrity and consumption seem to have tapped into a continually relevant section of the art market, always popular and always controversial.

View more of Ken Courtney’s work at www.justanotherrichkid.com

Sitting amidst a rowdy crowd in York’s Royal Opera House I anticipated my first encounter with ‘The King of Controversial Comedy’, northerner Royston Vasey i.e. Roy Chubby Brown. The full house and few die hard fans wearing ‘Chubby tour 2009’ t-shirts leant to the impression that his act was guaranteed to be ‘outrageous…but always funny’. However it is the latter part of this proclamation I find myself having most problems with; undoubtedly outrageous, but funny – hardly. It seemed the audience compromised the aforementioned fans and characters familiar with his ‘work’ through various enlightening videos and DVD’S such as ‘Jingle Bollocks’ (1994) and ‘King Thong’ (2005). Needless to say these titles had not entered my collection, so the Opera House was my first introduction to Chubby Browns offensive humour.

The warm up act deserves some mention. It was an energetic fusion of mo-town remixes and blues brother outfits. Buzz and the R.C Beat Band took on the hard task of warming up an audience only interested in the forthcoming perverse comedy. After a few failed attempts at audience participation, their bright orange and turquoise suits began to resemble a Butlin’s entertainment band as opposed to a support act. However the songs played were entertaining, and with some mentionable solos by the trumpet and electric guitar, by the end of their half an hour slot they received a well deserved hearty round of applause.

After a thoroughly beer orientated interval came a progressively loudening chant. ‘You fat bastard’ gradually echoed round the audience (obviously a tradition I was unfamiliar with) and out popped the rotund, patchwork clad, controversial king himself. By this point any illusions the show would be ‘something for everyone’ and ‘family fun’ were only to be pushed further aside by his resilient determination to live up to his title. Every taboo was broached in an interesting concoction of racism, sexism, with the occasional ‘dwarf’ and ‘midget’ pun thrown in for good measure. What followed can only be described as desperate attempts to perpetually shock and disgust. His songs, some choice titles include ‘Is a Golly Wog’ and ‘I am asylum seeker, we love all your benefits’; jokes, ‘What is more frightening, a ghost or a black mans cock?’ and choice props two ‘Golly Dollies’ and a prosthetic penis made out of a pair of tights, all smacked of provocative poor taste.

However I got the impression that by taking a less than favourable opinion of the show, I have somehow played into his hands. As a comedian thriving off bad press, the negative portrayals of him in the past have had little effect on his DVD and ticket sales over the span of his career. So based on that, my conclusion of Roy Chubby Brown on Tour comes down to matters of my opinion; those familiar with his comedy either love him or hate him. I (and apparently many others) hold my opinion as the latter however those that love him seem to be still buying tickets.

The Norman Rea Gallery’s latest exhibition offers an invitation to ‘discover the real India’. Photographer Geoffrey Currie’s exploration of Delhi, Calcutta and Varanasi is well catalogued in over 40 portraits, street scenes and landscapes of India’s daily rituals and customs.

A bold use of colour and composition runs as a strong theme throughout the scenes of bathing, travel and work. The photographs successfully transform the world of India’s everyday life into glimpses of a contrasting urban metropolis. Claustrophobic street scenes filled with advertisements are effectively juxtaposed with tranquil bathers, establishing effective contrasts within this different culture.

The exhibition relies on divergence and offsetting differences: shadow and light; morning and sunset; busy and calm. By creating these natural oppositions Currie creates a bystander’s viewpoint. The photographs document uncontrolled events that have unfolded around the artist on his travels. This testifies to the exhibitions commitment to the ‘real India’. These uncontrollable occurrences combined with effectively haunting portraits, orange taxis and red train tracks assert to the richness and variety of Indian culture.

The average art gallery visitor might no appreciate the certain shock effect of the crippled street beggars in Delhi (including a particularly disturbing image of a blind girl sat on a pavement edge) however, I believe it is a testament to the exhibitions commitment to its aim, to discover the ‘real India’.

Getting beyond the tourist traps of a country that is so over exposed by the media and occasional holiday snapper, Bharat Ganarajya succeeds in delivering an alternate view of India regardless of whether you have been there or not. The exhibition is well worth a visit and effectively bears testament to our love and fascination with the unknown in alternative cultures.

Bharat Ganarajya is displayed at the Norman Rea Gallery until Saturday 13th June

An aggressively animated cast piggy-backed the confused and sometimes congested script of this term’s PantSoc installment, Jack and the Beanstalk. Flickers of ‘Mighty Boosh’-style comedy infiltrated, especially from the thoroughly deserving ‘Mad Alice’. There was an indisputable cohesion among central characters which saved the plot from altogether drowning in ‘contemporary’ slapstick gags and a stifled central narrative.

This parody of University life, however, found itself struggling under the pressure of the perverse pun. It became apparent that this panto’s parade of gags were ‘student orientated’ after the first overtly sexual caper, not five minutes into the production. Every imaginable taboo was accommodated; incest, prostitution and bestiality casually grafted onto domestic violence and drugs. Unfortunately such a combination desensitised the backlash of some genuinely amusing banter.

Catchy tunes merited some enjoyable audience participation. Welcome breaks were filled with well choreographed – if slightly counterfeit – dance routines from the likes of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. However, the culmination of Disney, CountDown and Mr Muscle allowed little support to an already jam-packed narrative.

The two and a half hour performance was too long. However, if you are in search of mindless entertainment this energetic panto has a worthy cast, but be prepared for the overbearing innuendo of ‘Jack and his Beanstalk’.

Anticipant fans, thrifty students and the odd humiliated late comer filled the packed out Comedy Night 5 at York Theatre Royal. It was quickly apparent from our back row gallery seat – which left little of the stage and more of the light fixtures to be admired – that booking well in advance was obviously a must. Although we grateful not be seated directly in front of the stage – clearly best suited for the very thick skinned.

Despite the unfortunate high-level seating in the auditorium, the Theatre Royal is fast becoming the cultural hot spot of York. The four featured comedians took to the microphone in the face of an expectant crowd – previous audiences had been cajoled by some of the U.K’s most talented comedians in Comedy Nights One to Four.

The first to be pitted against previous heavy weights was the slightly nonsensical narrator, Trevor Locke. Comic script writer for television, radio and theatre, his ‘uncomfortable’ comedy was well received. Moulding the stage with a somewhat Dickensian attitude, Locke’s twitchy, nervous comedy revolved around narrative stop/start jokes. A formula that effectively procured laughs before the first interval but lacked the diversity to circumvent some welcomed heckling towards the finale.

His successor was the regular Comedy Store comedian, Sean Meo. He flourished despite some unwilling audience participation, behind a routine filled with topical and slightly risqué commentary. Meo’s monotone slur captivated a charmed audience, whose praise, manipulated by clever nonchalant humor, was obtained with ease.

Following Meo was the self affirmed ‘sub-Hugh Grant-esque’ John Gordillo. Living up to his reputation in a jumper and jacket combo with a strong Notting Hill accent, Gordillo seemed amusingly out of his comfort zone. His miscellaneous story telling, although longwinded and over gratuitous use of ‘fuck’, procured well deserved hysterical laughter from a wiling audience.

However, after the end of the second act things became a little stale. If you couldn’t afford the £15 for a tub of ice cream, it is more than likely you have been sat in your seat for over an hour and a half, with – more noticeably in the gallery – little visual stimulation. By the final act, little more was expected than a similarly dressed male treading the boards in loafers.

Nevertheless, to allege The Raymond and Mr Timpkins Review shook things up a little would be an understatement. Clad in bike helmets, stripes and interesting sock and sandal combos, the double act refreshed the stage with a freakish mix of textual and visual prompts. A compilation CD of everyone’s favourite pop hits formed the basis of this hilarious prop driven act, cleverly inducing total audience participation and enlivening those expecting more generic stand up comedy. The final act’s interpretation of slapstick and gag comedy provided a simple but effective finale, which replenished a thoroughly enjoyable night of characteristic comedy.
With the next set of dates coming soon to the website, be sure to book early – to avoid visual disappointment in the gallery – and bring a large box of Jaffa Cakes – to thriftily avoid starvation in the interval.

Wholly recommend for a barginous student night out (only £5 for NUS and under 25’s), York Theatre Royal’s comedy nights provide cheap and effective entertainment for anyone wanting to experience what York has to offer, away from the University bubble.